Young Offenders, Redux
by Sybil Rowan
Summary: AU, 009/003, 004/002, the first generations cyborgs escaped right after their surgery and spend decades avoiding the Black Ghost. The second generation cyborgs are tricked into believing their loyalties are with the Black Ghost. A lot of time is spent on the relationships being built between Ivan, Jet, Frances, and Albert. This is a revamp of my original YO story.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Young Offenders, Redux

Author: Sybil Rowan

Pairing(s)/Characters: 004/002 and 009/003, mentions of Albert with Hilde, mainly mourning her. Even a little bit of Jet crushing on Jean-Paul :)

Rating: T

Summary: AU, 009/003, 004/002, the first generations cyborgs escaped right after their surgery and spend decades avoiding the Black Ghost and stealing from them. The second generation cyborgs are tricked into believing their loyalties are with the Black Ghost and are sent to hunt them down. A lot of time is spent on the relationships being built between Ivan, Jet, Frances, and Albert. This is a revamp of my original YO story.

Warnings: alternative time-line here, foul language, don't know when it'll be finished either.

Author's Notes: Well, I decided to start fresh. I apologize to all of you who felt abandoned. I wanted so desperately to pick this story back up, recently. For those of you who don't know, I lost my father last July, and I used my Floodland series (a Tsubasa AU) to help me as a coping mechanism. I really became a stronger writer, I think, over the last year by constantly practicing. Well, I thought, I'll just dive into this story again. Not so. I reread it and realized there was some sloppiness I wanted to clean up and some more emotions I wanted to convey. This story deserves more from me than sloppiness. The plot will be generally similar to the Young Offender story, but I'm going to add somethings here and there: more emotions and thoughts. I may change some parts of the plot so, it may not be the same story. I'm hoping this one will be better crafted. I hope my old readers will come back and start the adventure with me again, and I'll get some new ones, too.

Disclaimer: Cyborg 009 is owned by Shotaro Ishinomori. Named after the New Order song that inspired this story. Still one of my favorites by New Order!

Beta Reader: WingedPanther73, my wonderful birthday hubby!

Date: revamp date- March 26, 2014 (6:00 pm)

Word Count: on going

Chapter One:

Frances took a deep breath and forced herself to sit upright in spite of her throbbing headache. Her purse, overcoat, and hat were still with her. Memories slowly came back: the men in dark suits, the sedan sent to take her to her new ballet company, and Jean-Paul waving farewell from their balcony. She remembered one of the men pushing a white handkerchief over her nose and mouth. That memory shocked her into awareness.

She slid off the operating table she had been lying on and balanced on unsteady feet. She glanced around. Her foggy vision was clear enough to see she was in some sterile hospital room. There were several men in white lab coats tending equipment she didn't recognize.

"Where am I?" she asked.

Only one, short, balding man in a lab coat turned towards her. He glowered and marched towards her. Frances couldn't help but notice a young, teenage boy in plain, yellow pajamas walked behind him with slumped shoulders and a downcast expression.

"Get back on the operating table!" His French was passable, but he had a harsh accent she couldn't identify.

"No! I want to go back home! My brother is waiting on me."

The man turned and bellowed at a man standing by the doorway. Frances' heart pounded. The man was her kidnapper. "You moron! She has family!"

"Sorry, Doctor Gamo. Doctor Uranus put in the order to take her."

"Of course," he snarled. The man shook his head and eyed Frances. "Well, too late now. I'll work with her."

"What do you mean? Where am I?"

"Silence, woman! You'll do as you're told from now on! Ivan, put her back to sleep," Doctor Gamo ordered the teen.

"Please, Father, the American isn't doing well, and she doesn't want to be here, either. I can read their minds. This isn't what you and Mother promised me!" the teenager said in harshly accented French.

"This organization will take us to new heights. You'll stop being so resistant!"

Frances saw the scrawny teenager pale and tremble. The man grabbed the front of the teenager's pajamas and shook him slightly. "Do as you're told if you want to see your mother!"

The teenager stepped forward and stretched his hand towards her. "I'm so sorry," he said. The teenager looked up and she saw he his left eye was brown and right eye was blue. She gasped when his right, blue eye started to glow. Frances' legs gave out; she slumped forward, and her vision grew dark.

* * *

Frances heard waves in the background as she woke up again. This time, everything had an unreal quality to it. Now she was on a beach at sunset, wearing her favorite pink dress. But she had been wearing her nice, gray suit to meet with the artistic director who had hired her. The teenage boy sat next to her; his heterochromatic eyes were fixed on the gently lapping waves.

She sat up and turned towards him. "Who are you?"

"My name is Ivan Gamo. You're, technically, inside my consciousness. I brought you here so I could talk to you. Alone. They have ears everywhere, but they still can't figure out how to pry into my head. Only Mother can do that, and she's gone."

"What? That's... incredible," Frances murmured.

No, this had to be a dream, and this boy was a manifestation of her fear. She was kidnapped and drugged, nothing more. But why had they targeted her? They took her right under Jean-Paul's nose. A stab of fear hit her. What if they attacked him, too?

"I'm not a figment of your fears or a side effect of the drugging you suffered," Ivan explained passively.

Frances started. The boy had actually echoed her thoughts. She asked, "I've been kidnapped, but by who and why?"

"The Black Ghost."

"Ghost?"

"Yes. They're a science and research organization that's funded by a group of ruthless men that call themselves the Merchants of Death. Those men have tremendous influence, but they desire more power over world governments. Their goal is world domination."

"But...?" Frances felt her brow furrow as she tried to accept Ivan's information. She looked down at her bare feet. The cool, wet sand clumped as she dug her toe into it. If this was really Ivan's mind, she couldn't tell.

"You're still not convinced," Ivan stated, rather than asked.

"I'm a ballerina. What would they want with me?"

"You're an experiment to them, just as I am. They were looking for someone that wouldn't be missed by a family, someone from the streets, but they chose wrong with you. Your brother, Jean-Paul, will be looking for you. I believe Doctor Uranus is to blame for choosing you, but I couldn't figure out why."

"How did you know about Jean-Paul? They told you?"

"No, I read your mind. They don't allow me any access to our files. They... they're... afraid of me. They made me, and now they don't trust me."

"So... you really can really read my mind?"

"Everyone's mind, and I can do a lot more. I'm keeping a close telepathic link to the other one."

"There's someone else here?"

"Yes. He's an American. They have him under a deep sleep right now."

"What for? What are they doing to him? You haven't told me what they're doing to us."

Ivan turned his face towards hers. His grim, tense expression elicited a sense of dread. "They're surgically altering us into prototype weapons. They're augmenting our bodies with mechanization and electronic enhancements so we can be sold to aggressive countries. Once the planet is engulfed in total warfare fought by altered people, the Black Ghost will take over the weakened countries and rule. They'll keep the secrets of reforged men to themselves for that time and use our weakness to bring us to their side once again. We'll be their slaves if we don't leave."

"This is not real! It can't be real! I don't believe any group of people could be that evil!"

"There must be evil in most men. It's what keeps the Black Ghost alive."

Frances flinched at Ivan's bitter, cool tone. She looked over at him again and laid a hand on his shoulder. He felt real and solid, not like a dream.

"Please don't say that. We have to have hope." She slowly released his shoulder. "So when is this going to happen to us? We have to escape before then and help that American."

"It's happening right now. Jet is almost finished. He's the American. They're prepping you for surgery. Pretty soon, you'll not be the same. You won't be entirely human any more."

"You have to stop them!" She shook her head and sobbed, "I don't want this! This is not my choice!"

"I can't. They have Mother as leverage over me. They're very careful to not let anyone on the island know where she's located right now. Not even Father knows her whereabouts. Besides, they keep me medicated just enough so I can't concentrate to use the rest of my abilities."

"That man I talked to? Is he really your father? Is he...?"

"One of them? Yes. He's the reason I'm here. He convinced me this was for the good of humanity. He lied to me. I'm the first of their experiments here."

She felt a surge of pity for Ivan. "How could your own father do this to you?" Frances took a deep breath and shook her head when he didn't answer; his expression was so bereft of emotions. She slowly absorbed what she had been told and then glanced at Ivan again. "You look very young, but..."

"But I sound old? I may appear fourteen, but I'm actually..." He gave her a rueful twist of his lips and shook his head. "...a lot older."

"I wish you would stop finishing my sentences. I'm convinced you really can read minds."

Ivan let out a sharp gasp and leaped to his feet. His eyes were trained to some far off point in the deep, blue sky. Frances got to her feet and gave a slight shake to his shoulder.

"What is it, Ivan?"

"Jet is waking up in pain. He needs me. Also, my father is up to something. I have to go."

"No! Don't leave me! Please!"

"I'll do what I can to help you, but I can't do much of anything right now." Ivan turned towards Frances. He placed his hand on hers and squeezed. "I swear I'll be back after I check on Jet and see what's going on."

She squeezed his hand back. Slowly, his hand felt cooler and cooler. Frances watched the teenager's presence fade away into a shade of gray, then nothing. She took a few steps and glanced around. She was now alone on an empty, unfamiliar beach.

Frances sank to her knees and let tears flow. She crossed her arms and murmured, "Jean-Paul," over and over. Her voice carried over the waves, but no reply came. Her stomach twisted in fear.

* * *

_/Jet! I heard you./_

The lanky New Yorker looked up through his haze. His dry throat was painful. A man in white, surgical garb was laying aside a large, serrated knife. It had a dull, crimson liquid on it now. There was a blinding gleam above him from a light.

He looked over towards another surgeon at his other side. Jet raised his head to see better what the man was doing. His thighs had deep crimson grooves on them. The surgeon grabbed Jet's left leg and slid it away smoothly. Horrified nausea hit as he struggled to scream out.

_/Jet! Don't look any more! Sleep again./_

_/My legs! They're taking my legs! What the...?/_

_ /Sleep./ _

Jet felt a cool wave hit him, and then blackness. He felt as if he were floating again, and then, as if he were being tugged downwards. The smell of grass crept over the pungent antiseptic. His hands felt cool and good. He slowly sat up and realized he was now in a deserted park during the early evening. The grass felt slightly damp under his hands.

It unnerved him to see an empty park. New York had people everywhere; now, he was totally alone, and it unnerved him. A panic hit as he jumped to his feet. There was no way he was in New York. He waved his fist in the air and shouted, "I know you're here! Show yourself, kid!"

"Behind you."

Jet swirled around and glared at the short, skinny kid looking up at him with those eerie eyes: one blue, one brown. "There you are! I saw you earlier. What the hell is this? Where were you? I just dreamed I lost my legs."

"This is the dream. That was the reality."

"What? You mean...?"

"You woke up during the surgery to alter you. It won't be over for several more hours."

"So you mean I was really kidnapped?" Jet shook his head and forced a laugh. He flopped down on the grassy ground and gave Ivan a lop-sided smile. "Right," he said sarcastically. Then he jumped up and walked around, getting the creeps when he realized the park started fading into a thick, bluish fog, and he couldn't really push through it.

Jet wasn't sure how, but the kid was keeping him in this strange place. He marched back to the kid and waved a fist towards his nose. "Get bent, kid! I probably drank too much and this is my hallucination in the drunk tank. Damn, why couldn't it be pink elephants?" He didn't believe in any weird ghost story stuff. He wasn't going to start now.

Ivan stood before him with too stern of a look for a kid his age. It only made Jet laugh hard. He gasped suddenly as his legs felt like searing fire hit them. He grabbed at them and stifled a cry of pain. He bit his bottom lip, hard, as Ivan slapped his palm against Jet's clammy forehead.

Minutes later, the pain lifted. Jet regained his breath as Ivan's hand dropped. He watched the boy stay standing, barely, on shaky legs. "I must go check on the others. I'm afraid one more has joined us."

"Hey! What others?" Jet shouted after Ivan's fading form. "Get back here, you little ankle-biter!"

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

Young Offenders, Redux: Part 2

"Frances?"

She got to her feet and swirled around; she met Ivan's heterochromatic eyes. Frances gripped his shoulders, he was solid once again. She was still on the beach. She'd been amazed at Ivan's inner world. This world stayed in a constant twilight. Time didn't move forward toward day or night. She had started getting an uncanny feeling after a long period of time. She was grateful Ivan was back until she saw his troubled, furrowed brow.

"What is it? Why do you look so troubled? What's happened?" she asked.

"They've taken someone else besides you and Jet. This time it was man from East Germany, but he was severely injured in an auto accident. They're stabilizing him now, however, he wants to die. If he wakes up, altered like they plan, he will..." Ivan's took a deep breath and adopted his habitually, grim expression. "... commit suicide. You see, he's been through an atrocity exhibition. His wife was murdered before his eyes as they were trying to escape to West Germany through the Berlin Wall. He's in tremendous psychological pain as well as excruciating physical pain. It's a strain for me just to absorb and release his sensations."

"You're taking all of his pain into yourself?"

"Everyone's," Ivan whispered. "However, I don't process emotions like you or the others. It causes me some discomfort, but I'm doing what I can." He pulled away from Frances' grip. She jogged up to Ivan as he retreated down the beach. She fell into step with him and looked down at his face. His brow was furrowed, and he had deep, dark circles under his eyes. He explained, "You see, I was in an infant's body for a long time. Many, many years. They only granted me a teenager's body so I could be of more use, now, but I still get tired over long periods of time when I use my abilities too much."

"Oh, Ivan, you're protecting us more than you're letting us know?"

"Don't worry about it. I will handle it." Ivan's pale face suddenly flushed; he wouldn't quite look her in the eye any more. "You're like me now."

Dread filled her. The implication hit her hard. "You mean I'm changed? Like you said?"

"Yes. You're cybernized. Pretty soon they'll wake you up. They've enhanced your senses a great deal. Be prepared to be overwhelmed when you do wake up."

"Why aren't they being stopped by police? Someone! Anyone?"

"The Merchants of Death have enough money to bribe police or anyone else they need."

A wave of dizziness lapped at Frances. She rubbed her temples and shook her head. Ivan gripped her arm and said, "They're trying to wake you up. Go with them for now. We'll cooperate until the time comes. Right now, Albert, 004 as they call him, is still in shock, and I'm still on heavy medication to keep me under control. We have to wait until the right time to escape."

"No! I don't want to see them!"

"Listen, I'm working on persuading one of the doctors to cut my medication down. Please, Frances! You have no choice except to trust me. Please... please... I swear we'll leave this place as soon as I know how. I promise you'll see your brother, but you have to trust me. You're brave and sensitive. We'll need you."

She nodded and let a thick cloud of dizziness take over. Blackness, numbness, and coolness.

* * *

"Eat, girl!"

Frances glared at the old man, Ivan's father, Doctor Gamo, who stood over her. She looked at the dinner tray beside the stiff hospital bed. It was soupy oatmeal and orange juice.

"Where is Ivan?" she asked, not looking directly at Doctor Gamo.

"He's asleep, not that it's any of your business. I should have never let him bring you food," he snapped. "You better find a way to choke that down. We have a test coming up after 004 recovers to a certain level."

She looked over to her left, where the German man was in a deep sleep. He was still wrapped in bandages and still had a callow complexion. What horrified Frances was that the man no longer had a normal right arm or his normal legs. They were all metalic. She had watched when they changed his bandages and it was revolting at the seams where metal met flesh. It oozed horrible and the man kept murmuring the name "Hilde" over and over. She figured that must have been his wife or girlfriend's name.

"What test, you sick bastard?" Frances flinched at Jet's, or 002 as they called him, sharp voice. She could barely understand his English words, she knew so little of it. Ivan had warned both her and Jet to not let them know they could communicate somewhat. The Black Ghost wanted their subjects to be isolated from each other, but didn't trust them alone in separate cells. "You've had us here for three damn days!"

"Oh... and where do you think you'll go? Back to New York?" Doctor Gamo declared in English accented with thick Russian, strolling over towards Jet's hospital bed across the room. Frances watched the man lean over Jet's scowling face. "Be grateful for what we did for you, you brat! Now keep your mouth shut. You don't need to keep your tongue for our purposes. If you don't learn your place, we'll make you mute!"

With that threat, the man turned and stormed out of the room with a flourish. Frances met Jet's smoldering, brandy eyes. He turned his face away with an abashed expression. Frances felt embarrassed for him. Once Jean-Paul had tried to explain the male ego to her, but she laughed when he got flustered and declared, "Men have a lot of pride."

_/Frances, Jet?/_ Ivan's telepathy pressed into Frances' mind.

_/Ivan, your father __was just here./_ She formed the words clearly in her head.

_/You mean Dr. Gamo? He's not Father to me any longer. I'm still asleep from draining Albert's depression. He'll be awake soon. It's then that we can make plans to leave. They haven't been able to move forward until we prove a success with their testing. The Merchants of Death want results before they fund more research./_

Frances picked up her orange juice and glanced at Jet. He was now lounging back on his stiff bed and gazing at the ceiling. Frances wished the three of them could have a direct conversation for once. She knew nothing of the lanky, redheaded American, and Ivan refused to tell her anything about him other than he was a year younger than her. That would make him eighteen. Ivan had also told her Albert was thirty, but he looked older than that to her because of his hair.

_/The oatmeal is drugged. Eat only part and hide the rest. In three days they'll take all of you out to the woods, a testing ground. It's then I think we have a chance. I've been communicating with Albert. He's agreed to come with us. He's stronger than I first thought. All of you are. Both of you need to rest, and Frances, do not let them know you know the slightest bit of English./_

_/Of course, but... how are we to escape. What about your mother?/_, she thought, worried about helping Ivan's mother, as well.

Several long minutes passed. A chill ran through her body; she looked to see Jet shivered, too. Jet turned wide eyes towards her. She clearly thought, /_Ivan? What's wrong?/ _

_/Mother is no longer our concern. We'll leave now./_

_/Ivan, tell me what happened? Did they kill her?/_, she asked, terrified for the Russian boy.

_/No./ _He thought and his expression turned sour._ /__S__he betrayed me. Gilmore told me she left me with __F__ather so she could continue __her spying on America__. She'll be here within a week. We need to leave before then because she's a very powerful psychic. I'd rather not confront her. __I don't know that I could win against her as I am now. My drugs are cut down enough to flee, but not enough to fight.__ On the positive side, Doctor Gilmore is __ready__ to help us escape. He's cut my sedatives down so I can start to use some more of my psychic abilities. __I'm more and more useful by the day.__/_

Frances felt her stomach sink with anxiety. _/We're family now, Ivan. When we leave here, Jean-Paul and I will take care of you. Count on it./_

_/Get some rest./ _She had the sense he was avoiding something._ /We'll talk tomorrow./_

Frances laid back in bed as a scrawny nurse came in. She drew a drape between Frances and the two male cyborgs. The lights dimmed, and the nurse left. Frances tried to work on relaxing.

* * *

Frances looked down at the green uniforms with yellow and red trim she now wore. She tried to keep her shoulder-length, golden hair from flying in her eyes. She looked across the bed of the jeep where Jet and Albert sat in silence. Albert's head hung low, his elbows on his knees. Jet's fists were in his lap; his eyes were locked on Frances. She shivered when the jeep stopped at the edge of a forest.

Jet grabbed Albert's shoulders before he toppled forward onto Frances' lap. Black Ghost guards swarmed around the back of the jeep and dragged them out. Frances didn't fight; she took in the dusk, forest surroundings and concentrated.

It was just as Ivan had said. She could actually hear waves crashing against the rocks two miles from where she stood. It sounded as if it were happening by her ankles. The exotic, pungent flowering planets overwhelmed her sensitive nose. She sneezed twice and let herself be dragged to a clearing.

Frances stood on the grassy ground beside Jet and Albert. She was unnerved. These two men were strangers to her. She hadn't spoken a word to them yet. All she had was Ivan's word that these two men were trustworthy, but she admitted she didn't trust Ivan implicitly. They'd had so many telepathic conversations over the last two weeks. Still, who was to vouch for Ivan?

She and Ivan had confided so much to each other, yet, she felt Ivan was still holding some things back. It was as if he were older, wiser, and in control. It had had finally sunk into Frances he wasn't the fourteen as he appeared to be.

_/Get ready, Frances! Now! Do it!/_

Frances fell to the forest floor in a false faint at Ivan's telepathic command. She kept low while Jet swiftly leaped at two of the guards. He was so swift she barley could keep track of his actions. Her head jerked around at the rapid explosions. It came from Albert's metallic, right hand that was converted into some sort of gun-like weapon. The German man appeared more coherent now. No doubt he'd been faking his condition.

Albert quickly grabbed Frances' elbow and jerked her upwards. He pulled her behind him; Jet ran behind them. He was now aiming a small, electric gun at anyone coming up behind her and Albert. Seven guards lay on the forest floor within minutes.

"Where do we go?" Albert asked in French.

"Two miles, northeast," she answered.

"Run for it and keep up with us!" Albert shouted in English, towards Jet. He grabbed Jet's elbow when the redhead hesitated for a moment.

"You can speak American!" Jet said with stunned, wide eyes.

Albert's face squished up unpleasantly. "Um... English, you dolt!"

"Yeah, give me a lesson later, Poindexter! Let's get the hell out of here!" he snapped back. Both glared hotly at each other. More gun fire their way interrupted the impromptu pissing match. The three of them launched head-long into the lush, green forest now bathed in inky darkness.

Frances couldn't believe how energized she felt. No sweat, no cramps, no slowing even after the vigorous run to the rocky shore. It hit her that her body, even with how in shape she was normally as a dancer, she even more so now.

"Duck!" Jet shouted. He shoved Albert and Frances to the ground and launched himself into the air. It was the first time Frances could see the changes made to the American. He flew into the night with bright light trailing his feet. He drew the guards' fire as Albert cursed in foul German.

Frances turned and coved her ears as Albert leveled his hand and destroyed the three robotic guards with a rain of bullets from his modified, right hand. Albert turned towards Frances and was about to take her elbow; he was coming closer to her when she heard twigs snap.

"Watch out!" Frances screamed.

Albert swiveled and dropped five more robotic guards sneaking up on them. Seconds later, Frances heard another group approaching. Her eyes went down to her right hip; an electric gun was there. She allowed instinct to take over. She drew it and held up with trembling hands just as two human guards appeared from the darkness.

One started to draw, but Frances felt her finger squeeze the trigger. She wasn't even conscious of the act until after. The bright electric flash hit the approaching guards and laid them low. She felt the gun waver, but Jean-Paul's voice came to her and said, 'Hold it firm, or I'll never see you again! Fight for freedom.'

She pressed her lips tightly together and concentrated on her senses. They were so extended it still caused her trouble sorting out all the information flooding her awareness. There was a flash of heat and light, Jet appeared beside her.

"Is she alright?"

"Yes, she's fine," Albert answered, prying the gun from her grip. "Frances? That's your name?" She nodded. Albert went over and checked the human guards. "They're stunned, they'll wake up soon."

All she could do was nod again. She felt his left, fleshy arm around her shoulders as he guided her towards the rocky shore. Albert assured her in French. "We're almost free, Mademoiselle. We'll get you home."

"Yeah, don't know what sauerkraut said, but don't worry. The the ankle bitter said he'd meet us and get us out of here. Where is he? Damn it!" Jet howled in English.

"Ivan will be here," Albert snapped in English. Then he said in French to Frances, "What a stupid donkey! Typical American moron!" Frances looked up to see Jet give Albert a baffled look that grew hostile.

"What did you say?! I only speak English!" Jet snarled with balled up fists. "You better not have said anything about me!"

"I said you're a stupid...!" Albert start in English.

A flash of blue light two feet from Frances' left side hit. The night on the beach filled with light and died instantly. Ivan appeared, along with Doctor Isaac Gilmore. Frances had a momentary flair of panic seeing Gilmore's white lab coat. She quelled it quickly, remembering his pitying glances when the rest of the scientists weren't around. She was grateful that Ivan's appearance, no matter how strange, interrupted the silly argument. Frances rushed forward in time to stop Ivan from collapsing on the jagged rocks.

He wore the same green, yellow, and red uniform she did. She pressed the end of her long, red scarf to Ivan's bloody nose. He hesitated before gingerly pulling away from her and getting to his feet.

"Let's get to the dock before more come!" Ivan ordered. Frances pulled herself together and raced after her male compatriots while listening for enemies.

They followed Ivan up on a dock, he raced headlong towards a small batch of slack guards on the sub's deck. Ivan raised his hand. A flash of blue snaked out from his palm, and the guards all crumpled.

"They're asleep," Ivan assured Frances. He looked up at her with a stoic expression. "None of us really want to kill, even if they are Black Ghost agents. Let's get out of here."

"We'll talk about everything later! Come on!" Jet shouted. Ivan jerked his head to the submarine.

"It's empty. Dr. Gilmore knows a place to hide. Jet, you have the latent knowledge to guide this sub out of here," Ivan said.

"Me? You've go to be kidding me! I can't do this shit? I didn't pass the tenth grade! Aw... what... Fine!" he said before reinforcements came for them.

"They've implanted it into your mind and kept it buried for later. I've already unlocked that knowledge. Just relax and it'll come." Ivan coaxed.

Ivan put his hand on Frances' shoulder to comfort her. She nodded at him with a reassuring smile. She followed the three men and one teenager into the submarine right before more guards appeared on the beach. Jet and Albert took the helm quickly and were able to get the submarine active.

Before she knew it, they were off into open ocean from the place she had heard refereed to only as Ghost Island. Jet, sure enough, seemed to flip on the switches and throw what toggles he needed to to get the sub moving. Frances was amazed, but what Jet didn't know was how to avoid the mine field around Ghost Island. Jet depended on her enhanced senses to guide them through the mines around the island. Once away from the danger, he put the submarine on maximum speed in an auto-pilot mode.

Frances slumped down on the metallic floor beside Ivan. Ivan drifted towards her and slumped against her shoulder. She put her arm around the teenager's shoulders as she watched Albert and Jet each sink deeper into chairs in front of the submarine's controls. She was grateful Gilmore hovered around, giving them all crummy coffee and blankets. The rest of the escape blurred into a haze for her.

To be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

Young Offenders, Redux- Part 3

Jet peeked out from his half closed eyes around the dim submarine. He was slouched in one of the seats in front of the controls. The older man, Albert, who sat beside him, groaned and clutched his right shoulder.

"Hey, you okay, old man?"

Albert's head snapped up. His face was full of ire. "You don't listen at all! You could have been shot out of the sky and let that girl get hurt!" He snapped in accented English.

"Don't lecture me, gramps! I don't know the chick, the ankle-biter, or you, sauerkraut! I did what I needed to do!"

The man grabbed the front of Jet's uniform and gave him a chilling look. "I don't give a damn if you risk my life! I was depending on you to cover that girl and the kid. They deserve to live, so wise up, you fucking idiot!"

Jet's ire exploded as he returned a nasty glare to Albert. "Listen! I do what I want, when I want! So don't pick a fight with me!"

The man groaned, clenched his teeth, and slumped forward. Jet looked to see the man's right, metallic fingers twitching. His anger turned to anxiety. He didn't want the guy to blow up or something and take all of them out.

"Hey, Doc! Come look at this guy's hand. I think something's wrong with him." Gilmore came walking up and began tugging up the green sleeve of Albert's uniform. "I don't want him accidentally shooting off his hand, so don't think I give a damn about the rotten bastard!" Jet declared loudly. He wanted it known he wasn't done with this argument.

"Just keep watching that sonar monitor for any blips. I'll take care of 004," Gilmore instructed.

"Sure," Jet grumbled, not even knowing what a sonar was, but disturbed he knew how to work some of this equipment. Didn't the kid say they programed his brain or something? He'd certainly ask for details on that.

He cast furtive glances as Gilmore started unscrewing a small panel on Albert's wrist. He shivered and looked towards the sonar again. He didn't have enough courage, yet, to see if his legs appeared like that. He tried flexing his toes and feeling them. There was nothing there. Just emptiness. His stomach filed with acid as he tried to figure out how to even look at his feet again without wanting to lose his mind.

* * *

Frances stepped out of the warm waves and onto the sandy beach. She was no longer groggy, which lead to a new problem. The bright, dawn light on the Japanese shore was blinding, the crashing waves and screeching gulls destroyed her concentration. The smell of salt air and sea life stung her nose. Her uniform, unlike the males, had a pleated, green skirt. She had felt the sea water splash up above her knees on to her bare thighs. All sorts of information about the water came flooding into her head: temperature, salt content, toxin levels.

Ivan stepped beside her and helped guide her up the beach by the elbow. Behind them were Jet and Doctor Gilmore with Albert hoisted between them. Gilmore had explained that Albert's cybernetics hadn't been perfected yet; now he was malfunctioning. On the beach was a middle-aged, Japanese man in thick glasses. His jaunty, friendly wave distracted Frances and helped ease some of her worry over Albert. It was so nice to see a kindly face after what she'd been through.

"Isaac! Finally! I was afraid you wouldn't be able to get away," the Japanese man called out in English.

"Please, Kozumi, help us get 004 into your lab. Like I said, I think you can help us without bringing attention. You're still working at the University?"

"Yes, come along." The man guided them towards a large, beach house.

Frances gave a baffled look towards Ivan. "He looks as young as Doctor Gilmore. I figured he'd be more like the other Black Ghost scientists. A lot older. Even your father seemed quite the senior compared to Doctor Gilmore."

"The Black Ghost prefers to employ older, well-established doctors for their endeavors, however, they wanted to try something new. They wanted to see if younger men could be solidly indoctrinated into their beliefs. I have a feeling they'll change their philosophy in the future."

"But young men tend to be idealistic. Jean-Paul is." Frances drew in a deep breath when the pang of missing her brother hit. She turned to speak to Doctor Gilmore, when Ivan's telepathy chimed in her head.

_/Idealism is what Gilmore is struggling with at the moment. He had wanted to help humanity with cybernization. Also, please don't ask to see your brother quite yet, Frances. We have to worry about getting ourselves stable and strong. Then we'll worry about avoiding the Black Ghost and letting you see your brother. Remember to be sensible; it could put his life in danger if you were to show up. Your better odds are keeping close to us./ _

_/You're right about me seeing him, but I worry about how he's handling everything. It seems like it's been so long. How long has it been?/_

_/Almost three months./_, Ivan projected.

Frances felt a chill as they entered the man's home. They were lead to a sophisticated, basement laboratory. Frances couldn't help clutching Ivan's lean hand in a reflexive, protective gesture as she tugged him back towards her.

_/Surely these things hold bad memories for you./_, she thought.

_/I'm fine, Frances. I read Professor Kozumi's mind. He has pity for us and wants to help./_

"Help get him up here on this bed, my boy," Gilmore ordered Jet. They were able to get Albert resting on the table.

Doctor Gilmore went right to the medicine cabinet. "That's right, Isaac, that vial on the lower shelf is for pain."

"Help me get this blasted uniform off," Doctor Gilmore snarled to Jet.

"I ain't your butler!" he snapped back.

Frances walked over to the operating table. She helped Gilmore get the green, uniform coat off, peeved that Jet couldn't be bothered. She gasped when she saw a plain, gold band on a chain around the man's neck. She carefully took it off and set it with his red scarf and jacket.

Gilmore gave Albert an injection in his left, fleshy arm, and it wasn't too long before Albert lay unconscious. The two doctors hovered over him, busy with equipment. Jet backed into a dark corner of the room and balled up on the floor. He wrapped his thin arms around his legs, but kept his wary eyes firmly on the bustling doctors. To Frances, those eyes looked utterly haunted, but they had a wild, animal quality in them. Yes, she was sure she disliked Jet a great deal.

"Can I help?" Frances asked the two doctors.

"Could you bring that sterilized tray over here?" Gilmore asked as he examined Albert's altered arm. France got the tray and stood by in case she could be helpful. Half way through the procedure, Jet and Ivan were sent by Kozumi to the kitchen to eat. The Jewish doctor also ordered them to get some sleep in a guest room on the second floor. They both obeyed without a word.

"Are you tired, Arnoul-san?" Kozumi asked, in English.

"No, Sir. I'll stay here. He protected me, so the least I can do is help him now."

"Very well."

The procedure went on for the rest of the day. Frances paid careful attention to everything the doctors did and said. She refused to be shy about asking questions. Acquiring this knowledge helped her feel useful, and it distracted her from her homesickness. Slowly, thoughts of Jean-Paul, Natalie, and her other Parisian friends washed away. Her life as a ballerina faded away to the immediate need in front of her: saving this stranger's life.

* * *

"So is that guy going to live or what?" Jet asked Ivan after they reached the top of the staircase.

"I don't know," Ivan answered softly, turning drooping eyes towards him.

"But you can read his mind and stuff, right?"

"Not at this moment. I expended most of my capital energy getting us off Ghost Island." Ivan opened the door to the guest room on the top floor of the house. Jet watched him sit on the edge of the bed. Jet sat on the twin bed that rested across the room from Ivan.

Jet tugged his red scarf off and started to undo the buttons on the top of his green uniform. "Man, I'm burning this thing after I get some sleep."

"Don't. It has special qualities. It can withstand extreme temperature and help take the impact of bullets. They could come in handy later on. After all, don't think they'll stop looking for us," Ivan's icy tone sent a shiver up Jet's spine.

He decided to ignore that. He could handle himself and was just itching to put a hurting on some of those goons. He switched the subject. "Hey, ankle-biter, what you said about capital energy? What's that?"

"Mr. Heinrich's modifications weren't perfected. Neither were mine. We both had more extensive surgery done than you and Frances had. Today's technology wasn't really advanced enough to use. In my case, I can only use my physic abilities in limited amounts before my brain shuts down."

"Then why do all this in the first place!" Jet clenched his fist and stared at it. He could still feel the sensation as if it were his flesh, but he found his breathing, strength, and speed had all changed. He felt lighter, a lot quicker, too. Still, the choice to become this had been taken away from him. That was something he'd never forgive or forget.

"Some would say our powers are a gift and we should be grateful," Ivan said.

"Your crazy-assed old man? He can take a leap!" Jet's teeth clamped hard on his lower lip as his head jerked up towards Ivan. There was that unnerving, impassive expression Ivan constantly wore. "Grateful? For this? They took away my choice! It was my body until they... they... tore it up and threw it out like trash!" He started to choke up, but he controlled it as much as he could. He said bitterly, "But I guess that's how they see people. Like bits of trash to be used and thrown out." Jet shook his head. "Not me. I'm not going to be used by those bastards. One day... somehow... they're going to be sorry they screwed with me. They'll pay."

There was a brief flash of blue in Ivan's right eye, but it dimmed quickly. "Good. I had a feeling you would say that. You need to stick close to us if you want that chance. Don't go back to New York right now. It could be dangerous if we were to split up."

"I don't know if the cops are looking for me, to tell the truth, but you keep that under your hat from the chick and sauerkraut. I know my parents couldn't give a shit about me, so I won't have them snooping around for me. I've got my own thing going right now. I'll get back with my gang and lay low. If it's like you say, I can outrun the cops, now. Besides, New York is a huge city. I won't be found."

"You asked why they changed us even when things weren't perfected yet. We are the experiments. We are to be used as models so they can see the drawbacks and then find others to do this to. Don't you see? It's designed to be an endless cycle."

Jet flopped back on the bed and covered his eyes with his right arm. "It's not my job to save the whole world, kid. I have to look out for myself and give them some pay back. That's it. I'm grateful to that guy and that girl down there, but I can't help them."

"You're afraid to help them. They remind you too much of what you just went through at the hands of the Black Ghost, and you fear them. You fear it's too much for you to handle, and you'll be that same weak child at your parents' mercy."

Jet propped up his elbows and glared at Ivan. "I ain't scared of nothing! Not my folks, not those Black Ghost guys, and... certainly not you, the chick, and sauerkraut... So... just shut up or else!"

"Fine." Ivan settled back on his bed and shut his eyes. "Just keep in mind, I know why you ended up kidnapped by the Black Ghost. I've seen all of your dreams, and I know what you've done. It would behoove you to consider my proposal and stay away from New York."

Jet felt the color drain from face. He sank back on his bed and shook his head. He detested how that kid could always see through him, especially since he had spent years constructing his image and developing a strong front. He didn't want to think about how it was crumbing. Each day was getting harder to hold his anger in check, even before these Black Ghost goons had gotten a hold of him.

He'd found a goal to distract himself: get back to New York one day, no matter what, and leave this entire ugly nightmare behind him. He held up his hands and remembered all the blood from that boy in the rival gang. He clenched his fists and decided he had no choice. For now, he'd do what the ankle-biter said, and that was galling.

* * *

Frances quickly dressed in a plaid skirt and cream blouse; it was furnished by one of the sisters of a student of Doctor Kozumi's who was fond of western-styled clothing. She glanced around the small guest room to ensure she had left everything as neat as possible.

She scooped up Jean-Paul's gold pocket watch off the nightstand before heading downstairs. It fit nicely in the skirt's pocket as she remembered his admonishment; it was only a loan to ensure she made her practices on time. Frances knew it meant a great deal to him; the pocket watch and the biplane were the only trace left of their war-hero father, a Second World War pilot.

She ran her finger along the edge of the watch, vowing to return it to Jean-Paul before the week was finished. She reached the kitchen and was yanked back to reality. Her three male compatriots, she was starting to think of them in those terms, in spite of the unfamiliarity still existing, sat at the table with the two thirty-something-year-old doctors. All were sipping coffee, except Ivan.

"Good morning, Arnoul-san. Did you sleep well?" Kozumi asked, waving to the empty chair beside him.

"Yes, Sir. Thank you for the clothes. I appreciate them."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get more, but we have to be careful about our approach. In another week I can probably get everyone some more clothing."

"Don't bother, Doctor. We should be leaving your house soon, but it would be wise to stay in Tokyo," Ivan said. Frances suppressed a slight shudder. His voice was too authoritative for fourteen.

"What? You didn't tell me you wanted to leave," Gilmore chimed in, looking surprised. "We need to be careful about the Black Ghost. They have spies in the police, port authorities, and passport offices. It'll take us..."

"No, Doctor, you won't be staying in Tokyo with us. You'll have to go back." Ivan picked up a small apple and bit it. Frances didn't like it when Ivan got into one of his modes where he seemed to be looking at everything with a machine like logic rather than using his heart. It was as if his heart were stunted, something small and ignored.

"Yeah! It's not like we can trust you," Jet sneered at Gilmore, slapping his hand against the table's surface. Frances gave him a sharp look, but no rebuke. And Jet, well, he had no idea when to stop running his mouth, to her irritation. The American irked her endlessly! Over the last two weeks at Kozumi's beach house she had discovered that, indeed, she loathed him.

Ivan glanced at Jet and shook his head. "I've read Gilmore's mind throughly. He has no secrets." Frances noticed a faint, blue glow from Ivan's right eye. Then Jet's face flushed, his eyes filled with rancor towards Ivan as he crossed his arms. Whatever Ivan had projected into Jet's mind kept his jaw clenched tight.

"Anyway, you four need me! What about..." Gilmore started.

"Doctor, we need you more within the Black Ghost, as a double agent. You could be invaluable to us. I can modify your memories so they'll have the impression that I hypnotized and kidnapped you."

"But I don't understand! I feel horrible that my research harmed you. All of you."

Frances watched Gilmore give Albert a shamefaced glance. The middle-aged doctor cleared his throat, shook his head, and turned his face towards Ivan with a scowl.

Gilmore continued, "You'll need me to care for you. It's not like you can go to the hospital if something goes wrong. I mean, we've got Herr Heinrich stable, but it doesn't mean things can't got wrong."

"I think we do need Doctor Gilmore with us. We don't even know everything that's been done to us," Frances said, getting a sense of trepidation.

Jet shot her a dirty look. "You stick with him, if you want."

"We stay together. We have no choice," Ivan said.

Jet opened his mouth, but Albert interrupted with an uplifted finger. "No. Mademoiselle Arnoul should go back to her brother, back to her life. She should have the opportunity to recover as much of her life as she can. You can go back to the United States once we get her back to where she belongs."

"Even if I wanted to go back to the Big Apple, there could be problems for me. And it's not your business why!" Jet gritted his teeth, ruefully shook his head, and started to fiddle with a silver, Zippo lighter on the table. "God knows I wish I could and just live my life again."

"Then somewhere else like Australia or England? We'll figure it out after we get Frances home," Albert said.

"Separated from each other won't be safe for any of us," Ivan countered. He met Frances' aqua eyes. "The Black Ghost will be searching for us. We've cost them a lot of time and money. They won't let us go easily." Ivan turned his head towards the German man. "No doubt they'll search for us where we would naturally go, Herr Heinrich. There is strength in numbers. You shouldn't let your experiences taint your logic."

"Then Jean-Paul is in danger!" Frances blurted out, startled at the thought of being pursued. "So is Natalie and everyone I know. I can't just stay here." Frances unconsciously flinched from Albert's right, metallic hand when he went to pat her hand in comfort. Her face blazed hot to see a moment of hurt and embarrassment cross the man's face. She clenched her hands in her lap and stared at them.

"My idea is to keep on the move until the Black Ghost stops searching for us as vigorously. Doctor Gilmore needs to go there and pass us information. I can create a system within the doctor's mind where I can channel into him at anytime. Meanwhile, he will act as a Black Ghost researcher and not even suspect he's the one that helped us."

"But... I... I just can't go back. What they do is monstrous!"

"It's the only way I know to keep track of them right now. Besides, you can also commit sabotage and help to prevent this from happening to other people. Please, Doctor Gilmore. Be sensible about the situation. Erika Gamo still has the potential ability to track me."

"Your mother may be back at the facility, now that you're gone. She's tough. Are you sure you can alter my mind enough to fool her? And your father won't just let you go. He's invested his life's research into your brain."

"I'm aware of the danger. I'm also aware that you'll be in the greatest danger, being next to them. We have no alternatives. I ask that you please help us."

Dr. Gilmore let out a huge sigh and nodded his head. His expression went from passionate to grave. "I owe this to all four of you. I still do have friends in the Black Ghost, other scientists that I could persuade, in time, to be sympathetic to your cause."

"Ivan makes a lot of sense," Albert said, crossing his arms. "The doctor should go back, but I think we need to split up, for safety. It'll be harder for them to track us. There is no reason we can't travel to France, carefully, and check on Mademoiselle Arnoul's brother."

"Yeah, but..." Jet sputtered. He crossed his arms and sulked. "I don't want to go to France."

Albert gave him a small frown. "You struck me as an adventurous sort of fellow. Besides, you implied you couldn't go back to New York for some reason." Jet was quiet for several seconds as Albert's frown turned to a smug, lop-sided grin. "Where else do you have to go?"

"Alright, alright, but the kid comes with us." Jet hitched his thumb at Ivan. "He's got some spooky things going on with him. It'll come in useful if we run into those bastards."

"I wouldn't dream of leaving him behind," Albert said.

"And don't think because of this...! Because of what happened... that I trust you. Or the chick. Or even the ankle-biter." Jet's voice was softer, more of a grumble, as he picked up his coffee and gave Albert a scrutinizing look. "Any of you could be working for them secretly and just following the rest of us."

"Your suspicious mind must hide a guilty conscious," Albert answered smoothly. "You are the only non-European among us, after all."

Jet's fiery glare opposed Albert's cool, self-satisfied expression. Frances bolted out of her chair. Their attention focused on her. "You are two, pig-headed men! We have to stick together until we get to Paris! Throwing insults at one another is not helping."

She was pleased to see both of them had the good sense to be shamefaced. "She's right," Ivan continued. "All we have is each other, now. Our bodies are changed so that we can never rejoin normal society. Don't you understand? Not any one of us can ever go back."

Frances could tell some of the tension had ebbed as Ivan stood as well. What he said pained her a great deal and created all sorts of anxious thoughts. She so desperately wanted to prove Ivan wrong.

Ivan announced, "It's settled. I'll manipulate Dr. Gilmore's mind tomorrow morning. Then you lead us where you want, Herr Heinrich. I have no objections going towards France so long as it's together."

To be continued.


	4. Chapter 4

Young Offenders, Redux- Part 4

It was a chilly evening on the deck of Kozumi's beach house, but Frances didn't feel compelled to move inside. Kozumi had brought home dinner. It was some sort of marinated vegetables and rice. Her taste was not accustom to what she had been given, but she joyfully accepted the food out of sheer gratitude it wasn't oatmeal and orange juice.

Jet and Albert were still cool towards each other from their argument during the morning. Ivan had complained of being tired right after breakfast. She had shooed him back to bed; he had been asleep since then. Gilmore had been quiet as well; he checked on Frances only at lunch time, but spent the lion's share of his time in the basement lab.

She shivered and wrapped her arms across her stomach as a cold breeze came from the ocean. So much had happened that she hadn't had time to process. Tears brimmed, but she held them in, fearing Jet, Albert, or the doctors would see her. They were still strangers to her.

"Mademoiselle Arnoul?"

She glanced over her shoulder to see Albert standing by the sliding glass door. She quickly, gracefully brushed her hand over her hot cheeks and turned towards him.

She took a step towards him with a meek demeanor and said, "I'm terribly sorry for... this morning. Flinching from you. It wasn't polite."

He waved his left hand in the air and gave her a gentle smile. "I know what you're going to say. It's okay. I know my hand..." He flexed his gloved, right hand. "It can be unnerving. Let's just concentrate on the future rather than get caught up in petty worries."

"You're thinking about Jet?" she asked. She was worried, herself, about the loose cannon on their deck. She hoped the older man could control him, but it didn't look likely, with how hard they fought.

Albert's smile faded slightly. He walked over to the deck railing and leaned on it. "I don't think he's a Black Ghost double agent, if that's what you're wondering. I think he's just a hothead that has a hearing problem."

"I didn't think he was with the Black Ghost, either." They both looked through the glass door. Jet was draped over an armchair, absently flipping pages of a Japanese magazine. Frances knew he didn't understand it; she guessed he was trying to avoid them. He still wore the same scowl she remembered from breakfast.

"He's just a rash, pig-headed fool." Albert's voice caught her attention again. There was something there that sounded uncomfortable and suspicious, in spite of what he said.

"I'm more worried about Ivan. He's too young to be going through this. They've horribly scarred him." Frances leaned on the railing to Albert's right. "Also, what about you? You're marked by your hand. It'll be difficult for you to blend into a regular life." Frances laid her hand on his shoulder. She noticed his body tense. "Oh, this is yours. I laid it on your clothes, but I thought it might be precious to you, so I took it with me instead."

She dug in her pocket and got out the plain gold band on the chain. His eyes slowly grew wide and then somewhat moist. He took the ring in both his hands and took a deep breath. "Thank you so much. This was her ring, my wife's, that I gave her years ago when we married. She always treasured it, but I never had a hope of holding on to it when the Black Ghost took me. I'm indebted to you."

"I'm glad to do that for you, but I'm not sure how it stayed with you when we were with them. Maybe you'll find out one day," she said.

He quickly fastened it around his neck and got control over his emotions. She decided to changed the subject, because she felt it wasn't her place to intrude on Albert's unfathomable grief as a new widower. Although, now, she knew for sure he had been married to a lady that had died horribly when he was kidnapped by the Black Ghost. He was still going to refuse to talk about the details, so she wouldn't pry.

Albert said, "I've been thinking that Ivan can come with me after you're back in France. I figure I'll make sure Jet gets back to The States from Paris."

"After that?"

"I think the best would be to take Ivan with me somewhere remote. Switzerland. The Alps is my inclination."

"And just stay there for the rest of your lives?" she asked in horror. They needed to live their lives, too!

Albert's brow furrowed right before he turned his head away from her. "They never told you. Not the doctors? Not Ivan?"

"Told me what?"

"That we're virtually immortal." Albert paused a moment, the phrase rang in her ears above the ocean surf. "We won't grow older than we are right now. We can still be hurt, and you and Jet are more vulnerable to some things like poisons and illness than. Also, children for any of us isn't possible. We're all now..." Albert's face flushed and he seemed awkward as he said the word, "sterilized."

"That can't be right. That means I can never have a child?" It felt as though a cold wave scraped down her stomach. It took a piece of her life along with it.

"That's what Ivan meant when he said none of us can truly fit back into a normal life. However, I think you and Jet should try. You're both still young."

"But, Herr Heinrich, I can't now! No children? Are you certain? I've always wanted them." His curt nod cut off her further questions.

A slight humming sound deep under the waves startled Frances. Albert turned towards her with a quirked eyebrow. She explained, "Someone's coming from the ocean. It sounds like one of those large U-boats that surrounded the island where we were held."

He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her into the den. Jet bolted out of his chair and tossed aside the magazine. "What's got you in a dither, sauerkraut?"

"She heard them. They're coming after us."

Jet's face paled. He nodded and clenched his fists. "Well, we should kick their asses for coming around."

"With what? Your charming personality? It only goes so far," Albert quipped with a glare.

"You son-of-a..."

"Will you two stop!" France shouted, getting panicked. "I hear someone walking through the woods."

"Just one person?" Jet asked. She nodded.

"This is something big," Albert said in a dour tone. "Jet, take Frances and the doctors. Head towards town and hide."

"But one person isn't a big deal," Jet complained, looking very insulted.

"Do as I say!" Albert snapped. Jet backed down after an intense glare-off with the German. He grabbed Frances' wrist and tugged her upstairs. Jet started mumbling what Frances guessed were English obscenities she wasn't familiar with. "Go get Ivan. I'll get the doctors," he said slowly.

She opened the door to Ivan's guest room. He was sleeping with arms crossed over his chest. She ran to him and started shaking his shoulders while shouting his name over and over. She noticed that he weighed double than she had expected.

"003!" Gilmore shouted out. She looked over her shoulder to see him, Jet, and Kozumi at the doorway.

"I can't get him to move!"

Several rapid gun shots came from downstairs; she easily identified it came from Albert. Jet jerked her upwards, away from Ivan, by her arms; he turned her around to face him.

"I'm going down to help that guy! You stay with them and get yourselves out of here. There's a car in the driveway with the keys in it. Take it."

"I don't know how to drive!" Frances shouted, sprouting tears and shaking his head.

Jet shouted to the ceiling and fixed her with a hostile glare. "Try to get down there. I'll get to you. Just get yourself and the ankle bitter down there!"

"But Heinrich said you had to stay with us!" she insisted. Jet wasn't a person she trusted in the least judgment-wise, but he was better than nothing.

Those brandy eyes turned more volatile. Jet shook her by the shoulders, growled, and then shouted, "Get them the hell out of here! Now! That stupid cat needs my help!"

He gingerly push her away before bolting past the stunned doctors. The older men rushed towards Frances and loud crashing noises came from downstairs, along with small explosive noises. The three of them managed to get Ivan sitting upright, but he was still in a deep slumber.

* * *

Jet skidded to a halt beside Albert. He glanced at the plump woman who was tugging off white, fur gloves. He raised an eyebrow at Albert's harsh expression trained on the graying lady.

"What the heck are you doing! She's one of them, isn't she? Get her!" Jet demanded.

"She just told me she's Ivan's mother. I'm not going to kill her outright," Albert snarled back. "Besides, she's has telekineses like Ivan. And trust me, she hasn't been afraid to use it." Jet noted the deep, purple bruise on Albert's forehead.

Jet's ire spiked. "You idiot! Ivan said she's dangerous! Get her!"

Jet trained his eyes on her when Albert was still hesitating. She didn't look very intimidating. She just looked like a dumpy grandmother. That was until five photo frames from the mantle floated upwards and then hurled themselves towards Jet and Albert's heads. They both ducked; Jet could see the woman's eyes glowed a deep purplish color. Her eyes also held a gleeful malice that made Jet sick to his stomach. His parents were like that, too, so he decided this woman wouldn't get her hands on Ivan again.

"Told you, you should have kicked her butt before now," Jet hissed at Albert. He quickly fished his switchblade out of his pocket and flicked it out. He turned to the woman. He didn't really want to stab a lady, but he had to threaten her, get her to back down. He would certainly bluff her with no qualms. "Lady, back down!" He held the knife up and worked up his best belligerent expression.

She threw back her head and laughed. Albert shouted, "No! Jet, get rid of..."

The switchblade flew from his fingers before he realized it. It slowed in midair, turned towards Jet, and flew towards his left eye. He flinched just in time. His eyes jerked towards the wall where his switchblade was now lodged as is wiggled slightly.

"Damn it!" he swore at the woman.

"Will you think before you act?" Albert said in a low, irritable voice.

"Worry about her!" Jet snapped, seeing knick-knacks and small pieces of furniture floating around the room now. Albert brought his gun hand up and shot as objects were flung at them.

* * *

"We need to get him..." Gilmore's sentence was cut off as the man fell backwards. Kozumi also jerked upright and fell over on the floor. Frances gasped in shock and realized there was now silence downstairs. She struggled to pull Ivan upright, but paused at the subtle creaking of the bedroom door.

She looked over to see an older, plump woman with short, grayish hair. She was dressed in a brown, fur overcoat that didn't seem proper in the slightly cool Japanese evening. She gave Frances a vexed look and said something. Frances couldn't understand the strident sounding language the strange woman uttered.

"Leave us alone!" Frances shouted back in French, knowing instinctively this woman meant them harm. The woman's expression grew even angrier.

The woman said something clipped in that language. Frances watched in awe as the woman's indigo eyes started glowing a faint amethyst. She felt herself lurch through the air. She slammed into a wall. All Frances could do was struggle for breath as she sat up.

"Why are you doing this? We haven't done anything to deserve this!" Frances finally said after catching her breath.

The woman stalked towards her and pointed a finger in Frances' face. The woman screeched something incomprehensible and then Frances felt her throat tighten. Frances grasped at her throat and tried in vain to draw air. Her head throbbed as her vision darkened.

Ivan's voice came into Frances' awareness, but his words were foreign to her. She could suddenly breath again. She drew several quick breaths and focused her eyes. The strange woman and Ivan were facing one another. Ivan's angry attitude was unmistakable to Frances.

Ivan spoke again with a nasty scowl; Frances realized it must be Russian. It dawned on her that this woman must be Ivan's mother. This woman looked more like she should be his grandmother. It shook her to realize Ivan was much, much older than he had let on. The woman gave a mirthless laugh and launched into rapid speech at her son. She gestured several times to Frances, the doctors, and then finally the opened door.

Ivan shook his head, a steely expression came to his face. He said the one Russian word Frances knew. His voice was cool and soft, "Nyet."

She watch Ivan's right eye glow a bright blue; his fists clenched. Ivan's mother stretched her hand towards the bed. The sheets snaked out towards Ivan and rose to engulf him. He held up his hands; the sheets ripped into tiny shreds.

A point of light appeared between mother and son; it grew steadily brighter and alternated between violet and sapphire. It jerked back and forth between them just as Frances was startled by Jet's hand on her shoulder. She rose to her unsteady feet and noted Albert, who looked worse for wear, was helping the doctors.

"We need to stop her! She'll take him back to those people," Frances said.

Jet shook his head. She noticed his skin was deeply scratched. "She's dangerous. She flung us around like rag dolls and knocked us out with a lamp. That broad didn't lift a finger to kick our asses, she just did it!"

Albert leveled his mechanical hand towards the woman. He shouted in German, "Let him go!"

The glowing, violet orb slammed into Ivan's chest and knocked him back onto the bed. Frances murmured his named, but Jet grabbed her arms before she ran to the Russian boy, keeping her from possible danger. The woman swirled around towards Albert and replied in German, "I am his mother. I know what's best for him. Besides, you will be back with the Black Ghost soon enough enjoying the same perfection Ivan has found."

"You call this perfection?" Albert's hand wavered slightly, his jawed clenched. Frances' heart went out to the man. He was mutilated in such horrific, unnatural ways.

"Surrender now, you pathetic experiments!" A violet hazy shield was between her and Albert. Frances had seen Ivan do a similar thing when they were in captivity. She knew Albert wouldn't be able to shoot the woman through the shield.

"Never," Albert said calmly and jerked his hand above the woman's head. Ceiling debris rained down on her behind the violet shield. France watched the shocked expression as Ivan's mother crumpled under the debris; the violet haze dissipated.

Frances ran over to Ivan just as the boy was sitting up. His eyes drifted to the floor where his mother was unconscious. Frances helped him stand, but his eyes were fixated on the woman.

"Erika," he murmured.

"I'm sorry, Ivan, but I had to," Albert said firmly, with squared shoulders.

"No need for apologies, Herr Heinrich. She would have taken us all back to the the Black Ghost. She's our enemy, and don't think I have any question about that. She is no longer Mother to me. I have no parents." Ivan's tone was so devoid of any inflection it chilled Frances. Then again, what mother would sell her son into virtual slavery? Ivan said, "We must leave soon, because there will be more."

"More are coming," Frances confirmed, interrupting Ivan just as movement from the ocean came into her consciousness.

"What? On the run again?" Jet snarled. "What about them?" Jet flung his hand towards the slumbering doctors and unconscious woman.

"I'll alter their memories and meet you out front. Hurry and get the car ready. Also, grab the suitcase in the hallway. It has our uniforms and guns in it. We'll need them," Ivan ordered.

"But, Ivan..." Frances started.

"Go," Ivan whispered firmly. "They'll be here soon."

Albert tugged Frances' arm towards the door, and she followed. She glanced behind her briefly to see Jet following. The American stooped and picked up the suitcase resting at the top of the staircase. Panic hit her stomach as more sounds, machines and marching, became louder. She sat in the back seat of the small sedan, trembling. Jet tossed the suitcase to her, she clutched it to her chest.

Albert started the ignition. The headlights flared on. Ivan appeared out of midair suddenly, slamming into the hood of the car. She half screamed before realizing he'd teleported like before. Frances opened the car door beside her and shouted, "Come on! Come on! Ivan, get in!"

"I'm here! Go!" Ivan shouted as he flopped down beside Frances on the backseat. The car door was slammed shut with Ivan's telekinesis. The car lurched forward into the dark night. Frances quickly, carefully pinched Ivan's nose and had him lean his head forward to stop the flowing blood.

"I'm taking us to the docks. We'll find a way out," Albert said. "Frances, tell me when we've lost them."

She let Ivan gingerly shrug her off, and she switched her concentration to the men combing the woods around Kozumi's house. She began to worry about the doctors as the men approached. Sounds of the Black Ghost agents faded out as sounds of ship horns came into Frances' awareness.

"We've lost them."

"For now," Jet ominously finished her thought.

* * *

"And that's when 004 ruthlessly attacked your wife. I hope she's recovering," Issac Gilmore said, walking down the dank, dark hallway deep in the bowls of Ghost Island. Gamo glanced over his shoulder with a furrowed brow.

"We don't know yet. The injuries to her head seem to have put her in a coma. It shouldn't have been that severe. You're sure Ivan had nothing to do with it?"

"He was unconscious until the end, when 002 and 003 grabbed him. They ran after that. I tell you, I don't remember much about my captivity, but I do remember that. And taking me to my friend and lying to him! Those horrible ingrates!"

"Calm down, Gilmore! Hopefully, Erika can be brought out of her coma and she can tell us more. Right now, Scar has sent agents to Moscow, New York, Paris, and West Berlin. He's hoping they're stupid enough to run home. We can catch them then."

"I heard rumors that there are going to be budget cuts and a freeze on further development."

"Until the four cyborgs are found, Scar doesn't think it's a good idea to proceed, especially when the Merchants of Death aren't pleased with the loss of their investment. They want to see their merchandise back under our control before they loosen the purse strings again."

"I see. Wise idea," Gilmore murmured. "Well, are there any real leads to where they went?"

Gamo paused and turned, hands clasped behind his back. A devious smile spread across his face. Gilmore's head started pounding in time with his pulse.

"My bet would be Paris. One of them has a close relative. However the captain in charge believes they split up. Not me, though. Ivan is too clever to let them be divided and conquered, but if we hope to get them back," Gamo's smile faded into a scowl, " that's what we must do. By the way, Doctor Gaea and Doctor Uranus are ready to meet with us about the changes needed on the acceleration device. Damn it! We've lost a lot of our data with 002 gone. That mouthy boy! When we get them back, Scar will punish them horribly."

Gamo swirled back around and started down the hallway again. Gilmore murmured, "Good," in a hollow tone. He mechanically followed Gamo and succumbed to his hazy feeling.

To Be Continued.


	5. Chapter 5

Young Offenders, Redux- Part 5

Frances couldn't repress her smile as she stepped off the small boat onto a Monaco dock. She clasped her hands in front of her chest and turned her smile towards Albert's grim expression. Her smile faded when Jet jumped onto the dock behind Albert and he sneered towards the city.

"Wow! What a dump," he grumbled and shoved his hands in the pockets of his khakis. "This old city is crumbling down."

"What?! How could you dare criticize one of the most beautiful European cities!" She balled up her fists, but stopped her tirade at his glum expression and slumped shoulders. No doubt he was just being sour apples about being here, rather than America. How many times did she have to hear him nag constantly over the last several months about their destination?

It had sparked off more then a handful of arguments. At first, she tried being kind and patient with Jet, but he made it so difficult with how he just shoved away her overtures of friendship with gruffness and snarky 'Who asked you?'s. She had given up and tried to ignore him, but that had been impossible with their traveling situation.

Jet waved his hand dismissively at her nose and spoke in flawed, haphazard German. "Hey, no city beats New York, but I am grateful to be out of that floating garbage can." Oh, he was still so miserable at German. Albert's face twinged, but he didn't correct the tall, young man. Then Jet did one of the things that had quickly become a pet peeve of Frances'. He slipped into that annoying, American slang and switched to English. "Three months of being locked up with you three buzz kills was certainly no blast."

"Your incessant complaining was unbearable!" she said in French with ire. She knew full well he now understood every word she uttered in her native language. To her annoyance, he seemed to want to stick with German or English slang. Jet had picked up French almost overnight because all of his grandparents were Italian immigrants and only spoke to him in Italian. He could actually speak French almost fluently when he put his lazy mind to it. When it came to the German Jet picked up, it seemed to Frances he was trying very hard to prove something, but she couldn't grasp what.

Jet's face scrunched and turned red; he continued in English and said, "You ain't exactly a prize!"

"Would you two stop your childish behavior for once!" Albert snapped gravely in German. He shot them both a glare. France felt her own face flush. It had been a hard three months trapped with Albert, Jet, and Ivan. They had, more or less, tried to maintain peaceful travel while sequestered in the belly of the small, Japanese fishing ship, but the situation had worn hard on all their nerves.

Mainly, Frances found herself bickering with Jet. Sometimes, for variety, Albert bickered with Jet. From time to time, she bickered with Albert when Jet was sulking. Ivan had remained silent almost the whole time. The peacemaker role shifted around between Frances, Albert, and Jet as it was required. Ivan remained aloof.

She had come to the conclusion it was well past time to part ways from her male compatriots. Besides, she agreed with Jet about one thing. They would be safer separated from each other; it'd be harder for the Black Ghost to trace them if they were spread out. Ivan seemed stuck on the notion of them banding together. Albert was ambivalent.

"We need to quickly travel to Paris," Ivan said, standing by Frances' elbow.

"What about those fishermen?" Albert asked the psychic boy.

"They'll go back to Japan and forget everything about us. We won't be traced. I made sure of that," Ivan assured Albert.

Albert said, "What we need to do is find a way to get cleaned up and new clothes. We can't wear these around." He pointed at the suitcase with the uniforms Ivan hoisted.

"I can't agree more," Frances said, glancing down at the the wrinkled plaid skirt and stained blouse she wore.

"Hey! Can't you hypnotize some of these shop people into giving us clothes?" Jet asked Ivan.

The Russian shook his head. "If I use my abilities too much, it could bring unnecessary attention to us. I don't want to run the risk of catching Erika's attention again. We should try to manage without using our abilities."

"He's right. Maybe there is some sort of day work around," Albert mused, looking towards a row of shops and then back at the docks.

"I'll get us money. Don't worry about a thing," Jet said, jogging down the street.

"Wait a minute, you stupid donkey!" Albert snarled.

Jet swirled around and shook his head. "Wait right here. I'll be back soon."

Frances gasped as Jet disappeared from sight down an alleyway. She heard a high-pitched, metallic whine and wondered what it was. "Albert, what do you think he's up to?"

"I don't know, Frances. Let's go have a seat on those benches and wait on that fool."

The three of them waited, sitting on a bench by the dock. Frances kept checking Jean-Paul's watch in aggravation. Another high pitched metallic whine hit her ears after twelve minutes elapsed. Jet's body went from a blur into a solid form.

"You used your acceleration device in spite of Ivan's warning?" Frances asked as she now realized it was the sound of him activating and deactivating that powerful ability. She didn't like the smug look on the New Yorker.

"Yeah, well, I wanted to test it out. Besides, I got us plenty of bread," Jet said, waving a fist full of francs in front of Frances' face.

"Where did you get all that money?"

"I bagged it," he said with a shrug and mild annoyance. He shot Frances a patronizing look that finished sending her temper over the edge. Albert clasped her wrist with his gloved hand.

"No fighting. Now is not the time for a fight in the street to draw attention to ourselves, especially since our American friend has already pushed the limit. We have little choice now that it's done. We need to quickly get clothes and then get on a train to Paris. It is an all day trip, so we need to get started."

Jet glared at Albert. "You're a pair of ingrates. I got us money, and all you guys can do is bitch at me how I got it. I didn't see either of you coming up with ideas to get us out of this jam."

"We'll talk later." Albert grabbed the money and handed Frances some of the francs. He tucked the rest in his pocket. "Meet us at the train station in half an hour. We can clean up and change in the restrooms."

She clenched the money, swirled on her heels, and marched down the street to the nearest ladies' boutique.

* * *

"I mean, what is it about dames? I'm getting us cash and making sure she gets her pretty butt back to Paris. Why is she so sore at me?" Jet was drying his hair off with paper towels after washing it in the sink. He looked at Albert's reflection in the neighboring mirror. The man stopped combing his hair and met Jet's eyes in the mirror.

"She thinks you're immoral." Albert replied in English.

"Immoral? No, not after what we've been through. Stealing some money is not a big deal after that! Especially, if we're in a jam like this."

"I do agree with you. Sometimes laws have to be broken, however you're reckless. You proved that over and over."

"Better to take a gamble sometimes. What if we just sat back at that freak show because it was safe? Hun?"

"You're... what? Seventeen? Eighteen?"

"Eighteen!"

"Then you still need to learn some moderation. It comes with age."

Jet shot him a wicked smirk. "Oh yeah? What about Franny then? She certainly wants to run back to big brother and hunker down. When I get back to New York I won't be looking up my parents, that's for sure. So where is the moderation in what she's doing?"

"She needs to learn some moderation too, but hers is to take more risks."

"You got me there."

"How do I look?" Jet turned towards Ivan and chuckled at the odd-fitting navy suit.

"You should've let me pick out your clothes. You look like a square."

"You look fine. Let's go," Albert said, shooting Jet's smirking face a dirty look.

* * *

She smoothed the front of her yellow dress down as she left the train station's restroom. Frances admitted she felt better in clean clothes and with cleansed skin and hair, in spite of how she came about acquiring the clothes. She quickly joined Albert, Jet, and Ivan by the ticket window.

Albert was wearing a dark green suit, and Ivan wore an over-sized dark blue suit. Jet, on the other hand, was dressed like some of the beatniks that hung around Parisian cafes, a black turtle-neck and jeans. At least he would fit in with the other Americans that usually roamed Paris.

"We have the tickets. It'll be ten minutes," Albert said, leading the group towards the platform. People were boarding the train; they integrated into the crowd and made their way to the ticket taker. Frances didn't release her breath until after Albert had all four tickets punched and secure in his jacket pocket again.

She followed Albert into a set of four seats, two facing the other two. Frances quickly sat by Albert to avoid being near Jet. Ivan thankfully sat across from her. As the train lurched, Albert unfurled a newspaper. A few minutes later, he looked up and announced, "Things haven't changed too much since our time away."

"It's been... what? Five, six months? What were you expecting?" Jet asked. There was curiosity, rather than the sarcasm Frances expected.

"Not sure, but we need to keep our eyes out for anything odd. Governments coming under attack, strange banking collapses, anything that's not explained, but affects entire populations."

"You're trying to keep track of their influence to avoid them," Jet said.

Albert gave him a lop-sided smile. "You're not as dumb as you act." Jet gave him scowl, but didn't rise to the bait. Albert continued, "After Frances is back with her brother, I'll send you back to America. I recommend someplace other than New York."

Jet was silent, he looked thoughtful as he leaned against the train window. Frances felt a surge of pity for the hardened teenager's brooding look. She could glean there was some trouble Jet had been in before he was kidnapped. He seemed doubtful he could go back to New York without authorities looking for him. He kept everything else a mystery, and that was a frustration to her.

She felt empathy for him being parted from his beloved hometown. After all, what if the Black Ghost had gotten to Paris and were watching Jean-Paul? What if she couldn't settle back into her life as a ballerina? She took part of Albert's newspaper to keep these thoughts at bay.

* * *

Frances couldn't help clutching Albert's left, flesh-like hand in both of hers. They were across the street in a narrow alleyway. They both peered towards the apartment where she and Jean-Paul lived. The apartment building was dark as the night sky. The city around them, however, was bright, vibrant, and noisy.

"Now Paris is pretty cool. It reminds me of New York. Only old."

Frances shot a vexed look over her shoulder at Jet. "This is my home. I don't think Jean-Paul is home, though."

"No. He's not. I feel no one in your apartment. Everyone in the building is asleep. We need to be careful when we slip in, so no one sees you, Frances. I don't sense anyone from the Black Ghost, but it doesn't mean they can't come around and look for us later. You should only contact your brother until we know the whole situation."

She turned to look at Ivan. He was in the shadows, nursing a bleeding nose with Albert's handkerchief while leaning against a brick wall. She suppressed her instinct to care for his bloody nose, she nodded instead.

He swiped away the last of his blood and said, "Lets go while we won't be observed."

Frances took out a head scarf and wrapped it over her golden hair. Indeed, Albert was already wearing a traditional German jeager hat, matching his suit. Jet pulled on a homburg hat and glanced out of the alleyway. The four of them jogged across the street. Frances let them in the apartment building and lead them to the loft apartment. She quickly retrieved the spare key from the top of the door frame and let everyone in the dark, front room.

She went right away and drew the drapes shut and lit a few candles on the kitchen table. Jet whistled low and said, "Snazzy digs you got here."

"What? This is a rather modest apartment," Frances replied, waving matches out. "It's all Jean-Paul can afford. He's worked so hard to put me through ballet school since our parents passed away six years ago."

"It's nicer than the dump my parents have," Jet said, looking around.

"Aren't you worried about your parents? You never mentioned them until now," Frances asked as they all peeled off their coats and hats. Jet's whole body stiffened as his face flushed. At first Frances thought he was angry and would bellow at her, but she caught the brief ache and longing in those brandy colored eyes. Jet vigorously shook his head and settled on a hostile attitude.

"I could care less about them." His tone was eerie and flat.

"That's a horrible thing to say about your parents. I would give anything to see my parents again. You're so lucky to still be able to talk to them." Frances started boiling hot water for tea. Jet flopped down at the kitchen table where Albert and Ivan now sat.

"You don't know them, Franny." Jet crossed his arms and slouched in his chair. His bitter eyes were locked on her.

Her jaw clenched, but it was Ivan who soothed her by projecting in her mind, /_Frances, his parents were excessively cruel towards him. He's been deeply scarred by their abuse./ _She glanced over at Ivan, his right eye pulsed light blue. /_He's a surviver as much as Albert is. You should cleave to them from now on. You'll need to learn how to be like them, and they'll need to learn how to regain their humanity through you. Don't you see, Frances, that we all need each other?/ _

/_But, Ivan, we need to go back to our old lives and try to find wholeness again. How can I __possibly__be responsible for some juvenile delinquent and a __grieving __widower? I don't understand? Why come with us and encourage us to come here if the plan wasn't to part ways?/_

_ /Those aren't my plans. They're the plans you, Jet, and Albert have in mind, but they'll fall apart./_

She shivered, not liking Ivan's firm, authoritative tone in his thoughts. Frances turned away from Ivan in aggravation and tended her kettle. Soon they'd be out of her life, and she wouldn't have to cope with their jaded personalities any longer. The kettle started to whistle; she started pouring hot tea into four mugs.

As she set the kettle down she heard Jean-Paul's voice faintly, coming from down the street. He was saying, "...and I still am unsure. I'll start again tomorrow. How about a nightcap?"

"I'd love to. You know, I'll have to go back to the company in two days," Natalie replied.

"I know. I appreciate all you've done to help try to find Frances," Jean-Paul said. There was a somberness to his voice Frances hadn't heard since they had lost their parents.

She looked over at her compatriots at the dining room table and said, "Jean-Paul is coming up the stairs right now with my best friend."

"Do you want us...?" Albert's question was cut off by the turning of a key in the lock. The front door swung open. Frances teared up as she laid eyes on her beloved, older brother.

The shock on the blond man's face was almost too much for Frances to bear. Tears fully sprang forth as she walked over to Jean-Paul.

"Frances? Where have you been?"

All she could do was cry after she threw herself in his arms. He slowly embraced her and murmured her name softly three times. He jerked away slightly and held her by the shoulders. He looked down into her eyes and he shook his head in disbelief.

"I'm real, Jean-Paul, please believe me! I'm back."

"But Frances, what happened? Where have you been? I've been scared to death!"

"I was kidnapped, but I have to stay hidden. My kidnappers are still after me."

Jean-Paul tensed and looked over at the kitchen table where Ivan, Jet, and Albert sat fiddling with teacups. "You bastards! What the hell did you do to my sister!"

"No! They had nothing to do with it! They helped save my life, Jean-Paul! They are in as much danger as I am in right now! You must help them too!"

Jean-Paul turned a confused face towards Frances. "What? What's going on?"

"Please sit down." Frances turned towards Natalie, who clutched the collar of her light sweater. Her face looked stunned, pale, and uncertain. She seemed almost mistrustful of Frances. "You too, Natalie. I'll tell you some of what happened to me." She turned to the other cyborgs. "This is Herr Heinrich, Jet, and Ivan. Gentlemen, this is my brother, Jean-Paul Arnoul, and my best friend, Natalie."

To be continued.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: "socs" means a snobby rich person. Stands for social. Jet would be called a "greaser" during this time- 1960s.

Young Offender, Redux- Part 6

"But I don't understand. What kind of experiments are you talking about? I mean, Frances, it all sounds so... bizarre," Jean-Paul said before taking a sip of hot tea.

"I can't tell you any more than that. It wouldn't be right if I told you more, because it would be an invasion of their privacy." She nodded toward Albert, Jet, and Ivan sitting with them at the kitchen table. "You must trust me. I'll tell you details later, but just know I'm telling the truth, and you must, must trust me." She gripped his upper arm for emphasis.

Frances could read Jean-Paul's skepticism. His handsome face was furrowed in deep thought, rather than its usual lax expression. He jolted up and cast dark looks towards Albert and Jet. She knew he still didn't trust them. They, thankfully, hadn't said a word during her whole explanation.

He finally sighed and looked at Frances with worry. "Of course I'll stand by you and protect you, but it's not fair for you to keep such large secrets from me."

"I know, but really, Jean-Paul, trust me. I was kidnapped, taken to an island laboratory, and experimented on. We escapade with each other's help and made our way here by way of Japan. That's all I can tell you for now. Anything else would put you into great danger. We are probably still being followed."

"But what kind of experiments, Frances?" Natalie asked.

"We were all altered in different way," she said, getting irritable at Natalie's prying. Why didn't they understand she had to give her companions respect? Couldn't they see she was distressed and in danger?

Natalie looked skeptical, as well. Also, there was something in the look she shot Jean-Paul Frances didn't care for. She couldn't quite understand it.

"Monsieur Arnoul, Jet and I will take our leave so we can make arrangements for him to get back to The States. I ask that you keep Ivan here until I can return," he said in French.

"But, Herr Heinrich, will it be safe?" Frances asked as he and Jet retrieved their hats and coats.

"Just until morning. Then I'll come back for Ivan."

"Please be careful. And, Jet!" Frances bolted from the table and walked over to the lanky redhead. He appeared confused. She couldn't think of much to say. She didn't know if she'd see him again because Albert might get him on a plane to New York tonight. The irritation towards him flew from her mind. All that was left was the memory of him risking his life for her during the escape. All she could say was, "Travel safely."

He gave her a brief smile, his grew abashed. "Hey, you watch out for those guys."

Frances watched them leave the apartment as her chest grew tight and apprehension swelled. She pushed away her worry with the thought about how right Albert was to split them up. It was safer to be spread out. She looked over to Ivan, who sipped the rest of his tea.

/_H__e's an intelligent man, but__his __logic is wrong. We__'__re safer in greater numbers. Not one of us, even me, is able to avoid or resist the Black Ghost indefinitely. They__'__ll gain strength and come after us all. Then they will try to alter others to be like us. It is our duty to.../_

"Stop it! I have no duty! This was forced on me! I'm just a ballerina! I hate violence! I will not be forced into it!" Frances shouted at Ivan. Her body trembled; she was on the verge of sobbing. She calmed her breathing down when she realized Jean-Paul and Natalie wore shocked expressions at her outburst. Her face reddened in embarrassment because there was no obvious reason to them for her to yell at Ivan. She waved her hand at her warm face when she noticed Ivan's stern look of warning.

"I'm sorry I upset you, Frances. I worry about all of us, as well. Our survival is my immediate concern." Ivan stood up from the table. /_My long term goal is to rid the world of the Black Ghost. __I will accomplish that goal, regardless of what I have to do.__/_

She shivered at the frosty voice Ivan projected. She grew somber and nodded. "Let's get some rest, Ivan. I'll bring you some blankets and you can sleep on the sofa."

"I want to stay over too, Frances," Natalie offered. Frances felt slightly cool to the idea, but she pushed it aside. After all, Natalie had always been there for her through every trial and triumph. She felt she should include Natalie in her troubles now, but something told her this was too much to ask Natalie. She was even hesitant at asking Jean-Paul to share her burden.

She nodded reluctantly. "Sure."

* * *

"It looks like we have to get you a passport for when you land. There's a problem with you getting a ticket, though."

"I'll just use my acceleration device when I land. Sneak out. No problems there," Jet said, leaning back against the bench on the observation deck. He looked at Albert's furrowed brow. "I know what you said. I'll stand out. After all, only business men really fly on airplanes, but I can get a suit before then. What else is eating at you? About the ticket I mean."

"It costs three hundred... American."

"What! Why not five or six? I thought this was a bad idea. It'll take me a month to boost that kind of bread. Even with my new trick."

"It was the way I thought would be the quickest to get you home. We'll try a ship. We'll get train tickets, go to the nearest port city, and then put you on a boat back to New York."

"Fine. Whatever I have to do. How much do you think that'll cost?"

"Don't know yet. It's getting late. We better find a place to rest. I did want to give Frances some time alone with her brother."

"I agree. He thinks we're the ones guilty of something. Figures," Jet griped and followed Albert out of the bustling airport. "Too bad I can't just fly myself home. Gilmore told me the boosters won't hold out long enough," he whispered, glancing around the crowd for eavesdroppers.

Albert's lips twisted into a wry smirk, but he didn't say anything. They found a nearby cafe, ordered coffee, and acquired a newspaper. Jet looked around and found a place to buy cigarettes. He lit himself one and offered one to Albert.

Albert took it, barely taking his eyes off the newspaper. Jet didn't bother looking at the French type. He could speak passable French, and understand it fairly well, but he still couldn't read it. He wasn't even interested in learning. School had always been a drag for him. The teachers gave him a hard time because he was a "greaser" and the goody-two-shoes "socs" looked down on him. He took a drag off his cigarette and enjoyed the first rush of nicotine he'd had in close to six months.

He remembered running from the cops and hiding behind several crates. He also remembered his irritation at seeing his pack of cigarettes was empty after he felt safe enough. He had crumpled the pack right before the men in dark suits approached him, claiming they wanted to help him get away from the cops.

He tried to shake off the memory with a drag off his cigarette and looked around the bustling street. There was a large part of him that wanted to see those men again, teach them a lesson. Sticking with Ivan could get him that. Still, he was horribly homesick.

"...over to the bakery and..."

"What?" Jet snapped at Albert, vexed that his revenge fantasy was interrupted.

Albert sighed, ground out his cigarette, and said, "You need to take what's left of our money and go to that old lady over there sweeping. The sign in her window says she has a room for rent above her store. French people that age typically don't care for Germans, but adore Americans. Just rent it out for one week. I want to make sure we weren't followed to France, and I want to make sure Frances will be safe here. Her brother certainly doesn't understand the whole situation, so he needs a few days to take it in. That'll give us time to figure out how to get you back to New York."

"Geeze! You need to lay off acting like everyone's old man," Jet said, before draining his lukewarm coffee. He stood and turned; he was excited to try out his sloppy French on someone besides Frances.

* * *

Frances woke up and stretched. She looked over to the trundle bed on the other side of the room where Natalie was still sound asleep. Natalie had wanted to talk about what had happened to Frances some more, and she seemed interested in what Frances was doing in the company of strange men.

Natalie had even asked if one them was a possible love interest, which stunned Frances. She burst out laughing at the absurdity. She explained to Natalie that Albert was recently widowed and that Jet was an obnoxious thug. Frances had feigned exhaustion after that, and they fell silent, unlike their other sleepovers.

She quietly slipped out of her darkened bedroom after she slipped a robe over her pink nightgown. It was her own nightgown, not something borrowed or stolen. A wave of relief and thankfulness swelled as she left her room and walked over to the dim parlor. She worried seeing Ivan sitting on the sofa, wearing oversized pajamas borrowed from Jean-Paul.

"Did you sleep well, Ivan?" Frances asked the apparent teenager.

"I can't sleep right now. I'm saving up my capital energy. It's at a high, and until I use it up, I doubt I'll sleep much."

She sat beside him and put her hand on his hands balled up in his lap. "What a terrible curse you carry with you." She paused as she pondered her next words. "I know that Albert has plans to leave with you, but..."

"You want me to stay here with you, rather than go with Herr Heinrich."

She felt miffed. Frances whispered, "Please be careful about that certain thing you can do with thoughts. I haven't told Jean-Paul everything about you, yet, and Natalie is still here. I'd rather she not know about all of us. Yes, I do want you to stay, because I'm worried about you. I mean, there is wisdom in parting, but I can't help being concerned for you. Those people, your parents, are so horrible."

"You were going to stay by my side and protect me from Erika when she attacked me, weren't you? I never did thank you for risking you life for me. All of you were willing to stand up to her. But, if I must choose to stay with you or go with Herr Heinrich, I'll go with him."

"But why?"

"Because when he finally does come to rest and no longer has to worry about us, he will likely fall into a deep depression. He's running from his pain by devoting himself to protecting all of us. If I travel with him, I'll be able to slowly drain his depression with my abilities."

"He has nowhere to go?"

"Just like me: no home, no family. Like I told you, his wife was killed in front of him. He hasn't dealt with it yet."

"How sad for you both."

"On the contrary, Heinrich and I are the lucky ones. You and Jet have too much keeping you..." Ivan paused; Frances could hear Jean-Paul rummage through his burrow. "Your brother is awake. We'll talk later."

Frances turned her head to see Jean-Paul open his bedroom door. There were bags under his eyes and his shoulders were slumped. "Jean-Paul, you look exhausted."

"I couldn't sleep very well. I was trying to sort things out in my head."

"Monsieur Arnoul, you should go to the police and continue to plead for them to look for Frances," Ivan said.

Jean-Paul looked a little taken aback. He put on a reassuring smile, which Frances knew was a mistake, and knelt in front of Ivan. He ruffled the Russian's odd, light colored hair, and said in a tone reserved for small children looking at his plane, "She's back now, and they still need to find the men who did this." He then stood up and looked at Frances. "We'll go to the police station after you get dressed. You'll need to tell them everything so they can find those men and they can be brought to justice."

"But, Jean-Paul, they have influence with the police." Frances' throat tightened; her vision blurred. She managed to say, "Don't you see, there is no justice for what we've been through."

She noticed Jean-Paul looked shocked at her declaration; it was right before tears rolled down her cheeks and sobs came welling up, in spite of her desire to control herself. She felt his large hands on her shoulders, he tilted her chin back slightly. She meet his eyes and wasn't surprised to see anger and determination there.

"My same big brother. Always so protective of me. Always ready to beat up anyone picking on me," she said after she got control again.

"I guess for now, a few days at least, it won't hurt to pretend you're still missing. But, on one condition."

"But, what...?"

Jean-Paul held up his finger firmly. "When I get back for dinner you must tell me everything that's going on, and I want to talk to those men who came with you."

"I think Jet is leaving soon, so is Herr Heinrich."

"I know, but I want a full picture of what's going. You asked me last night to protect them, too." He gave her a warm smile and squeezed her shoulders. "I was too surprised last night to really think straight, but I need to try to help them. It's the right thing to do."

She flung her arms around his chest and gave him a fierce hug that he returned around her neck. "Thank you so much."

"Of course. I'll go to the police. Then I have a delivery flight to make. It's down in Nice, so I'll be back before dinner. You should stay indoors and keep the drapes closed. I'll leave Papa's pistol on my nightstand. I know you hate it, but if I stay home to protect you suddenly after visiting the police station, and they are looking for you, it would look suspicious. You need to protect yourself."

"Okay. I'll stay in."

"Good girl. I'll be back as quick as I can."

"I should go check on Heinrich and Jet," Ivan said.

"No, you should stay here with Frances," Jean-Paul insisted. "I'll go and find them tonight."

Frances was surprised to see Ivan remain quiet as Jean-Paul stood up, went to the door, and put on his jacket. "Take care. There's fruit to eat."

After he left, Ivan stood up and went to Jean-Paul's room. Frances said, "Wait. I know you're thinking of going anyway."

Ivan shut the door, a brooding expression on his thin, pale face.

"Frances? Did Jean-Paul leave?" Frances turned to see Natalie standing in her bedroom doorway.

Frances nodded and asked, "Are you hungry?"

Natalie nodded. She and Frances got apples from the small kitchenette. Ivan eventually came out of Jean-Paul's room, now dressed in his over-sized navy suit. He stooped and picked up the suitcase hiding the four, green uniforms. His intense eyes met Frances'.

"I'm going to go see the other two. I'll make sure they'll be back before evening."

Frances nodded, tight lipped, and let him leave the apartment, in spite of her concern.

To be continued.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Of course Jet's little girlfriend in the 1979 version had to be named Natalie, too! Gggrrrrahhhh! Well, that's were I picked that character from. I do love the 1979 version a great deal, maybe the most.

Young Offenders, Redux- Part 7

Jet sat up in the darkened room and rubbed his eyes. They were heavy from a restless night. He slowly moved his neck to work out the crick. He started to wonder exactly how changed he was physically if he could still feel stiffness and the rumble in his stomach.

Jet slumped over, elbows on knees, also wondering what prompted his generosity towards the grouchy German when he couldn't stand him. He had slept on the settee that was much too short for a guy that was 6' 2''. He glanced over to the bed across the room and paused before lighting a cigarette. He now remembered how he ended up sleeping on the sette when he saw Albert's mechanical right arm draped over the edge of the bed. It wasn't generosity, just bad luck. He hissed thinking Albert was at most 5' 10''. Jet certainly should be the one sleeping on the bed. But, he had made the bet and lost fair and square.

Last night was so bizarre to Jet. After he had secured the loft apartment, he and Albert roamed the streets. They had gotten a few more clothes from a secondhand store and more countries' newspapers from a newsstand. The strange part to Jet was that they were quiet just about the whole time. Usually, he couldn't help but poke at the older man, but last night, Jet had been too exhausted and too bored to try to aggravate Albert.

At the newsstand, Jet had stolen a pack of playing cards and a book Albert had been looking at. When they got back to the apartment, Jet flopped on the settee and tossed the book to Albert. The man looked baffled, but thanked Jet.

He had expected a lecture about stealing and found himself sorely disappointed that he didn't get one. Jet wondered why he was so irritated he didn't get a rise out of the man. He decided to ignore Albert and play solitaire. Albert was settled back on the bed reading anyway. He didn't come from a family of readers, so it felt odd. He figured wasn't supposed to disturb someone reading, still, he started craving some conversation, some sort of noise of any kind. Even if that noise came from an old sour puss.

Just as Jet started yawning out of boredom, he decided to asked Albert what the book was about. Albert ground out his cigarette and looked up. He told Jet it was _'The Count of Monte Cristo__'_, a French novel Jet hadn't heard of. According to Albert, it was about a guy falsely accused of a crime and sent to prison for fourteen years. After the man escaped, he sought revenge on everyone who had destroyed his life. Jet had found himself laughing out loud, feeling punch drunk from the last six months.

"Now that sounds like a story worth learning to read French for."

"I could teach you."

"Naw... I'll be out of this country and back in New York. I'm going back to my gang and lay low until I know everything is cool."

Albert looked back at the book and mumbled, "As you wish," in German.

"I'm tired. If you're going to read, I want the bed."

Albert looked up and smirked. "I'm here already."

Jet shuffled the cards in his hands and smirked back. "Draw you for it. High card gets the bed." Jet walked over to the edge of the bed; Albert took part of the stack. They both held them up, and Jet hit vexed at seeing Albert's king of spades beside his two of hearts. He didn't bicker, but retreated back to the settee and let Albert continue reading.

Before he knew it, he had drifted off into a fitful sleep. He was troubled by nightmares of waking up with no legs, men in white masks, or violent gang fights. Now he was awake and staring at Albert's mechanical arm.

He began to feel lucky, because it could have been so much worse. It was horrible, though. His legs didn't appear like Albert's arm, like he had feared, but he found his feet no longer had feeling, and the bottoms were modified, so he couldn't look at them without effort. His feet moved, but were absolutely numb. He looked down at them in the dim light and moved his toes slowly.

What ended up disturbing him most was his skin. He ran his hand over his upper, left arm. His tattoo of a blue rose was gone. So were countless freckles he used to have all over his skin. What was also gone were some of the scars his parents had given him. He didn't know quite how to feel about that. His grim thoughts were disturbed by a slight knock at the doorway.

He jumped up quickly and asked in French, "Who's there?"

"It's me," Ivan replied from behind the door.

"Hold on," he grumbled. He threw on a jacket over his tee-shirt and gingerly opened the door. He slipped out and shut the door. "Heinrich's still crashing. I thought I was the night owl. What's up with that? Franny kick you out?" Jet pointed to the large suitcase Ivan held in both hands.

"No. These are our uniforms from the Black Ghost and the ray-guns. If you insist on leaving, you'll need yours." Jet glared at Ivan.

"Don't be talking 'bout that shit out in the open," he whispered, grabbing Ivan's upper arm. He tugged Ivan down with him to sit on the top stair above a deserted, narrow alleyway. "Also, I don't ever want to see it again. Like I said, it needs to be burned. By next week, I'll be back in New York, and I won't ever think about this ever, ever again."

"Don't be so certain. You can run from them, but not forever. They will catch up with you. Not next week, but maybe a decade from now when you least expect it. They are that determined."

"I'll worry about it then." Jet sighed and slumped forwards on his thighs. He glanced over at Ivan; a wave of compassion hit Jet at seeing the boy's blank expression. "Hey, kid... You know, if you want... well... Heinrich is a bit of a stuck up jerk. You don't have to do what he says. Why not hitch a ride with me to New York? You could do whatever you want, and besides... My gang could really use someone who can do what you can do. After all, those two don't know what it's like. Really like."

"You mean to have ruthless parents?"

Jet paused a moment and nodded. "So how about it? Like I said, I wouldn't bust your chops like those two."

"It's ironic how all of you want to protect me, but none of you are willing to acknowledge the truth of having me around. We're all in grave danger. The only way we can stand against it is by banding together. You, of all people, should understand that, considering your life in a gang."

"Yeah... yeah... yeah... fine. Stay with sauerkraut if you want, or Franny and her square brother. Makes no difference to me," Jet grumbled and rested his chin on his arms. His face flushed when he couldn't get Jean-Paul out of his head. He grabbed the side of his head, shook it vigorously, and exerted more willpower. What was wrong with him sometimes!

He hated himself for being a freak deep down inside. He tried to fix himself by seeing girls, ironically, another girl named Natalie that he'd grown up with in New York. He had slept with her a handful of times, but he had always left unsatisfied. Jet paused in horror and looked over at Ivan, who just gave him an impassive stare. He panicked at the thought that Ivan had just read his mind.

_ /You better not have!/_, Jet thought darkly, but no sign of reaction came to Ivan's face. He relaxed some, since Ivan didn't react. After all, the kid would have likely thrown-up and called him a filthy pervert if he really knew what Jet had deeply hidden.

Ivan said, "I'm here because Monsieur Arnoul wants you and Herr Heinrich to have dinner with him tonight." Ivan sat up straighter and cocked his head. "He's waking up." Jet's eyes narrowed as his mind seized on a way to get the talk off Jean-Paul Arnoul.

"Screw dinner. I'm about some breakfast. Let's get food. I'll tell Heinrich."

"You're right. The bakery is making me hungry."

"Ha! You are human, after all!"

Ivan now frowned with a troubled expression. "You know, he shouldn't be sleeping like this. It's ten in the morning. I think it's starting."

"What's starting?" Jet jumped up and stretched.

"His limit at holding off his depression." Jet followed Ivan down the stairs. He wasn't sure what Albert was going through; he'd never even really gone steady with a girl. He couldn't imagine wanting to be with someone for the rest of his life.

After he threw the suitcase in the apartment and told Albert were they were going, the man mumbled his acknowledgment and rolled over to sleep some more. Jet tamped down his apprehension and left quietly.

* * *

"So, Natalie, everything looks so clean. Jean-Paul looks well fed. It looks like you've been a real friend." She walked around, inspecting the counters and bookshelves.

"Well, it was the least I could do," Natalie murmured and wouldn't quite meet Frances' eyes.

"Is everything fine?"

"Yes, fine, but I do have a question. Now what do you plan on doing? It's not like you can show up at the dance company again. Dancing is such a public career, which is such a shame, because you'll have to find something else to do." Frances didn't like the over-exaggerated pity and sorrow. Something seemed hollow in her affect.

"Not necessarily," Frances said, sitting on the couch again. She didn't miss Natalie's hands clenching together in her lap or her tensed up shoulders. "Natalie, what's been going on with you while I was gone? Things haven't changed that much, have they? In a few weeks, when this is all cleared up, I want to dance again. Just be on stage again with you; won't that be wonderful?"

Natalie's eyes narrowed and lowered to the floor. "I've got to go. Practice is in a hour." She rose, went to the door, and paused. "Tell Jean-Paul I'll be back tomorrow."

With that, Natalie left. The door slammed. It made Frances flinch. Frances walked over to the window and watched Natalie jog down the street. She felt a flare of anxiety, wondering how she would reclaim her life and wondered where to start.

* * *

Jet slammed the apartment door after Ivan darted in, carrying a grocery sack. He looked over to where Albert sat at a small table. He had several different newspapers from around the world spread around him. Albert was studying a list on a piece of paper, a cigarette dangled from his lips, but it wasn't lit.

Jet started wondering why Albert knew how to read so many different languages. He shrugged it off for now, figuring the man must have had some job that involved languages. Who knew? Albert didn't talk about his past at all. In a week or so, Jet was planning on being back in New York and never having to lay eyes on Albert's scowling mug again. It was something Jet just blew off.

"Hey, Heinrich, we got you some lunch," Jet announced. He was annoyed the German man didn't even look away from the paper with some curlicue-like writing. "Whatever!" he sneered when his thoughtfulness was ignored.

_/Try again/_, Ivan projected in Jet's mind.

_/I was going to!/_,Jet thought back, glaring at Ivan.

"Come on. Put the paper down and eat," Jet demanded, taking the grocery sack from Ivan. Albert looked up at Jet with a cross expression and examined the bag.

"I've been trying to figure out some of the best places for everyone to live. In the United States, your best bet would be to live in the South."

"What? The South! Not on your life! I don't even think they have electricity and indoor plumbing down there!"

"Frances should move to Monte Carlo or a nice resort town of some sort. She could hide the best there."

"Whatever," he snarled as images of 'Rebel' soldiers from his school books came to his head. "Quit thinking that far ahead. We can't predict what they'll come up with. Who knows if they really can find us. We'll be needles in haystacks if we don't plan it all out too much."

Albert didn't reply, but Jet was given a nod of grudging respect from the older man. Jet got out an apple from the grocery sack and handed it to Albert. He felt a rush of pride impressing such a shrewd man, but of course he'd never tell the big jerk. Ivan sat at the table with Albert and looked over the newspapers and Albert's hand written notes.

"He actually has a good plan here, if we are to part ways. He's studied this and he's figured out some of the Black Ghost's logic here. A country's capital should be avoided, along with large, financially driven cities. They could cause us a problem."

"Yeah, I know, but big cities, like New York, would be trouble for them to comb through," Jet said, getting a banana from the sack.

"You're right about that, Jet. The odds are high that they won't want to spend a lot of money and resources on chasing us among a lot of people. Still," Albert trailed off before running his mechanical hand through his hair. "We still have time to think about it. You can't leave for three more days, anyway. I called about tickets."

"Fine. Guess I can put up with you that long," Jet said and smirked at Albert. "By the way, Franny's brother invited us for dinner tonight. He wants to talk things over with us."

"I'd prefer not to, but if we don't, he could underestimate our situation and not take proper care of his sister." Albert turned to Ivan. "Why don't you go back and watch over Frances. Let us know if something happens."

Ivan nodded and left. Jet gave a large sigh and asked, "How about some poker?"

"What's that?"

* * *

"Natalie, you seem so distracted. You really need to get some rest," Giselle said. Natalie nodded. "After all, now that you're the Prima Ballerina, you need to maintain that high level of stamina."

"I know. I just have so much on my mind," Natalie said.

"I know it's hard losing Frances, but you need to honor her by doing the best you can do, now that you have her spot."

"I'm doing my best!" Natalie shouted and ran out of the dance studio after hoisting her duffel bag on her shoulder. She shoved the door out of her way and ran headlong towards the end of the alleyway, but tears overtook her.

She stopped and leaned on a brick wall, trying to quell her anger and panic. She didn't want to go back to being Frances' substitute. All eyes were on her, now, and she had the glory. It was a bitter thought to have to give that up to her. She imagined Frances reappearing and losing what she had now, not to mention she had Jean-Paul's attention now. She had had a crush on him for the longest time, and now all her fantasies were starting to become reality.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle."

Natalie gasped and turned to see a man in a black suit. She backed away slightly as the man removed a stack of photos from his suit coat.

"Sorry to startle you, Mademoiselle. I'm with the police. I'm doing an investigation on a woman who disappeared from this studio six months ago. Do you know Frances Arnoul?"

"Yes. I haven't seen her for a long time. Did you get any leads?" she responded numbly, swiping at her tears.

"Actually, we're afraid she's fallen in with some bad company. Have you seen these men?" Natalie's eyes went wide, seeing photos of the two men Frances was traveling with. She had thought there was something suspicious about them!

"What did they do?" she asked.

"The younger one is wanted for murdering someone in New York. The other one is suspected in the murder of his wife in East Germany. If you know where your friend is, you'd be saving her from some rather unscrupulousness men."

Natalie looked at the photos again and took them in her hands. Wouldn't she be a good friend to tell this man about Frances and her male companions? Then again, Frances may be forced to leave again if her location were revealed to the police. Natalie paused; that was what she wanted. She put her mindset on the idea that she was being more altruistic than greedy. She firmly insisted she needed to help Frances.

"Yes, I've seen these men."

To Be Continued.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I may not put in all my original notes, but I did need to include this one. Special thanks to Aseptic for sending me on a new direction with the Natalie angle. A comment, I believe, helped make this chapter stronger. I'm still grateful.

Young Offenders, Redux- Part 8

"You're a cheat. That's all there is too it." Jet and Albert walked up the staircase to the Arnoul apartment.

"You won more games. You really are a strong player, when you're patient."

"Nag and bitch, nag and bitch."

Albert shot Jet a dirty look as they came to the apartment door. He knocked on it as Albert crossed his arms. The door flew open and there was the tall blond man, Frances' brother, looking eye-to-eye with Jet. Jet crossed his arms, looked down, and put on a scowl.

"Come in, please." Jean-Paul stood aside and let them inside the apartment.

"Wow, that smells good," Jet said. He glanced up to see Frances tending a huge soup tureen and a salad bowl.

"It's 'Crepes St. Jacques.' It's seafood crepe with a white sauce," Frances explained. She brought the bowls out and placed them on the neatly set table. "Come and have some."

Jean-Paul, Jet, and Albert sat at the table. Frances called out, "Ivan, where are you?" The boy emerged from a small door to the side the living-room. "You shouldn't spend so much time in that attic. You've been up there all afternoon."

"I just needed time to concentrate," he said, sitting beside Albert. Jet didn't like the kid's thoughtful expression. Ivan was keeping secrets, lots of them. Jet might not be book smart like sauerkraut, but he knew how to read people. It's what had kept him safe for four years running with a street gang. He hated feeling like some fourteen year old was holding all the cards in this situation. For now, he'd put up with it, but he wasn't going to tolerate this much longer.

"Let's eat," she said and sat at the table. For several long minutes they ate in silence.

Jean-Paul was the one who finally said, "I think it's time I have more details on what's going on with my sister. I want to know who you guys are and why everything must be so secretive right now."

"Hey, this isn't our fault. We were all kidnapped like her." Jet's defenses rose. "Trust me. No one in their right mind would volunteer to go through what we just did."

"Go through what? I don't understand!" Jean-Paul's hand smacked the table, a steely look came to his aqua colored eyes.

"Monsieur Arnoul, our bodies have been changed in different ways. Instead of being totally flesh and blood, we're now a mixture of flesh and electronics. Our blood was taken and remixed with fluids to help sustain machines, not lungs, hearts, and livers. We still have what makes us a human deep inside, but we no longer share a physical kinship with humanity."

Jet found himself shivering at Ivan's eerie description. He looked over at Frances and felt a wave of pity and envy for her. He didn't have any siblings. He thought for a moment it must be nice to have someone so close to you. He thought about his own home life and what it would be like if he were the older brother of a sister. Yeah, he would have certainly protected her against his parents and gotten her out of their abusive home life as soon as he could.

It kind of helped Jet understand Jean-Paul's cautious attitude towards him and Albert. Looking back on his childhood, there was a part of him that was grateful his mother couldn't have children after he was born. He saw the fondness between Jean-Paul and Frances and didn't know that he could bear watching someone he loved that much suffer what he had.

She was staring at her lap, but he could see something glistening on her cheek. He flinched and jerked his head away. He never, ever could stand to see girls cry. It made him so angry. It made him want to get even with whoever hurt them. Franny, as much as she pissed him off with her goody-two-shoes act, was no exception.

"So the experiments you talked about last night? It was some sort of surgery? Why would someone do that? It sounds too fantastic. Science has gotten that far? And who are these people who did this?"

"It's all true. It's an organization that has been working on it for decades. They've gotten to the point where they can take a person's body and replace the parts with mechanical and electronic parts. We were experiments. Just randomly chosen. Except for Ivan," Albert said, nodding towards the Russian boy.

"It's all too unreal. I have trouble believing you."

Albert tugged off the glove on his right hand and held it up. Jean-Paul bolted out of his chair, his wide eyes were locked on Albert's altered hand as the metallic fingers moved slightly.

"We can't spend time arguing with you any longer. Your sister is still in danger. We need to make sure you accept this and will protect her after we leave."

"Certainly, Herr Heinrich," Jean-Paul murmured, now pale, as he sat back down. He reached over towards Frances' shoulder, however she jumped up quickly and ran to her bedroom before he touched her. The loud door slam jarred Jet. Jean-Paul now looked glum instead of shocked.

After several long, silent minutes, Jean-Paul put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his clenched fists as Albert pulled his glove back over his hand.

"What can I do to help?" the blond pilot asked. Jet felt relieved to hear Jean-Paul's question, but still, he wasn't going to just hand out his trust. 'Never trust anyone' had been beaten into him many times. If you couldn't trust your own parents, you certainly couldn't trust strangers.

* * *

Frances sat up on her bed in her darkened bedroom, exhausted from her weeping. She glanced at the crack between the door jamb and the edge of the door. Warm light came from the living-room, so she went to go spy on them. She could see Jean-Paul, Albert, and Jet all clustered around the dining room table; they talked about how to stay ahead of the Black Ghost and the things Jean-Paul could do to ensure Frances' safety.

All three men were smoking and drinking some homemade beer from the landlord while they chatted. Part of her wanted to run out and scream at Jean-Paul to stop talking to them, ignore them, reject them. Instead, it seemed Jean-Paul and Albert were now totally at ease with one another. Jet had even made Jean-Paul laugh a few times. The last thing Frances wanted was her old life tainted by the world of cyborgs.

Another part of her found pride and comfort at how well he was getting along with her male compatriots. She loved her brother so much for the sacrifices he had made to finish raising her after their parents were killed in a train accident. Also, she loved him for his determination to make her dreams of the ballet come true. And, lately, Albert, Jet, and Ivan had all put their lives on the line for her at one time or another. Therefore, she couldn't help but care fiercely for them, even after such a short time.

Her conflicted emotions made her ashamed. How could she even want to reject the people who had stood by her in a life or death situation?

/_You're afraid that you'll not be able to forget you're a cyborg if Jean-Paul accepts them. That means he will accept you, and you're afraid he'll treat you differently anyway./_

She gasped and looked over at the corner. She had wondered where Ivan had disappeared to after dinner. Ivan floated in midair; an eerier blue glow surrounded him. She reluctantly nodded.

"How did you get in here?" she whispered.

_/I can teleport, however, it takes an inordinate amount of energy. I only do it when I have a very good reason./_

"What reason?"

_/I __read__ your __thoughts__. They could lead to self-loathing__ i__f you keep having these thoughts. Please find acceptance for yourself, Frances, and all of us./_

She took a deep breath, smiled at him, and nodded. Ivan lowered to the ground and walked towards the cracked doorway. He peeked out, no expression on his face, as he dabbed at a trickle under his nose with a handkerchief.

"Ivan, please stay with me and Jean-Paul. Paris a wonderful city. You know, I can't think of a reason Heinrich has to leave either. He could stay too. Jet, if he..." There was a subtle creak on the stairs outside the building. "Someone is coming up to the apartment. It sound like a slight person."

"Let's wait here. It's Natalie," Ivan said, with a furrowed brow as a knock sounded. Frances peeked out of the door crack, once again, above Ivan's head. Jean-Paul, Albert, and Jet looked startled. Jean-Paul waved them into his bedroom and went to the door after retrieving their father's revolver.

"Who is it?" Jean-Paul voice was harsh.

"It's me," Natalie called out. Suddenly, Natalie pounded furiously on the door. Jean-Paul yanked the door open, let the slight girl in, and slammed the door shut.

"Natalie! Are you okay? You're shaking and crying? What's happened?"

"Oh Jean-Paul! It's too horrible!" She gave a slight sob, holding her wrist to her nose. Frances didn't realized she was about to run out to comfort Natalie until she looked down to see Ivan's thin fingers around her wrist. She jerked her attention back to the scene outside her bedroom, now without the urge to join it.

"Get a hold of yourself," Jean-Paul coaxed and got her to sit on the couch.

"I told them about those two men."

"What? Who did you tell? When?" Jean-Paul's voice snapped into a strident tone. His eyes were blazing as he stood over the girl. She flinched and started crying. Frances' throat turned dry. She could hear Jet swear in the next room and Albert scuffling with him.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, but he said he was the police! He said the American killed someone! Don't you even care? Both of those men are suspected of murder, but something didn't seem right. I don't really think he was a policeman after all, but I think what they said was true! I believe they're both murders! The one killed his own wife to get out of East Berlin! The other stabbed a seventeen-year-old boy! Frances is in danger!"

"You stupid bitch!" Jet shouted, jumping out of Jean-Paul's bedroom. Albert jerked Jet's shoulder back. Albert's own eyes bored into the sobbing girl on the couch, too. Jet shouted, "You're lucky I'm not the type to hit a broad, but you come pretty damn close!"

"Cool it!" Albert snapped.

Natalie gave a stifled yelp and cowered against an armrest on the couch. Frances opened her door and walked out into the living-room with Ivan trailing behind. She walked over to the couch and sat beside Natalie. The girl looked up with tear-stained remorse written over her face.

Frances quickly embraced Natalie. They hugged tightly and then Frances held Natalie's shoulders at arm's length. "Why?"

"I told them because you are in danger. I wanted to rescue you." Frances could tell it was a lie, because her friend wasn't looking at her and playing with the hem of her skirt. She almost expected Ivan to say something, but he remained quiet.

"Please tell me the truth. We won't have much time. You need to be honest with me now," Frances urged. Natalie remained quiet; she still wouldn't look Frances in the eyes. "If you were ever my best friend, you need to be honest with me now. We'll be forced to leave soon! Natalie, I beg you to be honest with me."

"Okay! I did it! I'm now the Prima Ballerina! My parents were always so critical of me! This was my chance to make them proud! You were always so lucky and talented! When you were gone, I had my chance to make them proud, and I took it. I'm so sorry!"

Natalie's face blazed hot. She raised shame-filled eyes towards Jean-Paul. The blond man's face grew softer. "Aw, Natalie, did you think I was interested in you? I didn't mean to imply anything further. I'm not, you know, interested. I think of you only as my sister's friend, not someone I would date. It's respect towards Frances. I'm sorry if I gave you another impression."

"Natalie, is it true? You wanted my position? And to date my brother? That's why you told them? To get rid of me again?" Frances asked softly, feeling her stomach roil. All the girl did was nod. France gasped as she was yanked off the couch by Jet. He stooped down, but kept a firm grip on Frances' arm as he put himself in between her and her friend. Something had really set Jet off, and Frances had no clue what it was.

He got in Natalie's face. "You traitor bitch! People who squeal to the cops are dirty! You stabbed her in the back? She trusted you!"

Natalie didn't answer, she just buried her head in the crook of her arm and cried hysterically. Ivan got in between Jet and Natalie and waved his hands to get them silent. Frances trained her acute hearing to try to understand what Ivan sensing.

She could hear it, the click of guns. She nodded to Albert's baffled expression. He nodded back and yanked his gloves off. She felt Jet's arm around her waist as Albert and Jean-Paul carefully took defensive positions at the door and window respectively. It was all at Albert's silent direction. Natalie cowered on the couch while Ivan sat on a dining-room chair.

The gunfire ripped through the apartment, however, Jet's acceleration device had Frances in another world. Slow-motion destruction slammed around them, but Jet pulled her with him, up and then towards the attic access. She watched her brother and Albert shoot out of the window and door, but she didn't see Natalie or Ivan any longer. The metallic whine echoed around her as Jet dragged her behind him to the attic.

They dropped out of Jet's acceleration mode. The loud ricochet of bullets slammed into her ears, painfully. Jet jumped up and spun around.

"How do we get out of here!" He shouted over the gunfire.

"But what about...?"

"Ivan has got them! We just worry about ourselves."

She pointed to her left and steadied her footing. "There is a small dormer window. We can get out."

Jet followed her and grabbed at the iron bars covering the small window. He yanked. Frances joined him. Together, they popped the iron bars off with a loud crack and a rain of wood splinters. They shook it off. Jet helped Frances towards the opening first when three men in dark suits broke through the door. Jet shielded Frances from the rain of bullets.

"Jet!"

"Shut..." He staggered to his feet, eyes fixed on the opening. Crimson and gray liquid dribbled from the corner of his mouth. He yanked her towards him. "...up!"

Jet jumped out of the window with Frances in his arms. She clung to his neck as they were suddenly propelled through the air by his boosters. She bit her lower lip as he cradled her and landed on a rooftop close by her apartment. She didn't part from Jet, but supported him and had him lay down when he groaned.

"Jet! Jet! Please! Don't panic. I think I can help you. Where did they hit you?"

"The back. On the right," he answered and struggled to turn on his side. She helped him while trying to remember all the information she had learned at Doctor Kozumi's house. She kept her ears sharp. No one was following.

"Do you have a knife?"

"Here," He said, struggled to fish the switchblade out of his pocket, and handed it to her. She quickly cut away a place on his clothing and his artificial skin. She sliced more and revealed silvery, artificial muscles, but, more importantly, it revealed the damaged nerve line that sparked intermittently.

"Jet, you won't be able to move your right arm or breath through your right lung for a while after I cut this. You can still fly at low level, but your lungs are tied to your flying. At least I think think Doctor Gilmore said that." She shook her head. "If I don't do this, it could kill you, because it's frayed."

His head jerked around and met her eyes. The fear, anger, and exhaustion were not unmistakable, but then there was some expression she had never seen before: grim calm. He nodded, "Whatever you got to do."

He turned his face away as she found the wire again. She slipped the blade under and yanked. He cried out briefly and flinched. "Oh good... night... that feels... so effing... good..."

"Let's go."

He rolled and looked at her with sober eyes. "Save yourself and run for it."

"Come on! We've got to move," she said, helping him up. They staggered down a fire escape and ran down the dark alleyways, using Frances' enhanced vision. "Where is your apartment?"

"About six blocks over. Heinrich wouldn't be so stupid to show back up there."

"No, they probably haven't figured it out yet. I think that's the only place we have to look for them."

"M'kay." He grimaced and leaned against her as she lead him back towards the fire escape.

* * *

France heard Albert's heavy footsteps down the street, behind him were Ivan and Jean-Paul. She checked on Jet, who was laying stomach down on the bed of the loft apartment above the bakery. Albert quickly unlocked the door and slammed it shut after the trio were safe inside. She rushed to Jean-Paul and hugged him fiercely.

"What happened?" Albert asked.

Frances turned to see Albert kneeling beside the bed, examining Jet's wound. The redheaded New Yorker smirked weakly and said. "I did my best Sir Galahad impression, but it didn't work out so well."

"Natalie?" Frances asked Albert.

"Ivan moved her home. Somehow... with his abilities. We need to move, though. Now that they know we're in Paris, they'll all be here in no time. We have to get out of this country."

"I'll fly you to Switzerland. From there, we'll figure it out. We can sneak the company plane out."

"Great. Let's go," Albert said, helping Jet sit up and support him. Ivan grabbed the suitcase and had a ghost of a devious smile as they left the loft apartment behind.

To Be Continued.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I used Doctor Dressler from the reissued manga, volume 4, pages 116-117. Of course, 0010 to 0013 start making their appearances here. I've twisted them some, but you should recognize them in a lineup. This chapter is heavy on characterization, more action in the next.

Young Offenders, Redux- Part 9

She had never once felt nervous over Jean-Paul's flying. He had taken her up hundresds of times, but she felt panicky now. It was dark outside the small cargo plane's windows. She looked behind her. Ivan sat cross-legged on the floor. Albert sat next to him. Jet was lying on the floor in front of them; he was wrapped in a small, wool blanket.

They had all been so silent during the trip. It was another reason she felt panicky. Jean-Paul was always happy-go-lucky and always striking up a genial conversation. Jet was also a talkative person. Not a word came from them; then again, Jet was struggling to breathe. Ivan didn't project any thoughts into her head, either.

She watched Jean-Paul fiddled with the controls and push the yoke forward. She knew enough to know that Jean-Paul was starting to land the plane. She settled in the seat beside him and closed her eyes as the plane bumped slightly with touchdown. The engines came to a halt.

"We're here. This is an old, abandoned airstrip. The new one is now thirty miles away, nearer Basel. The hanger doesn't have electricity, but it does have running water. It does have a dormitory with several beds."

Jean-Paul and Albert helped Jet up and took him out of the plane. Frances followed with Ivan by her side. He still carried the wretched suitcase with their uniforms and weapons. They walked upstairs to the wide, open dormitory located over a massive hanger bay. It had ten cots and several footlockers. Frances could smell the dust and slight mold.

She watched Jean-Paul and Albert settle Jet on the first cot by the door. Jean-Paul quickly found a large, green, metallic square and turned the knob at the top and there was a beam of light. "Aw..." he said, with a large, delighted smile. "The Swiss Army still builds the best stuff. This flashlight has to be ten years old. Still works!"

"Yeah... well why couldn't the Black Ghost have hired them to make my guts?" Jet mumbled, then coughed.

Jean-Paul angled the light to the best position so they could see the small corner of the room where Jet was resting. He fastened the thick, leather strap to the head of the bed securely and crouched by Jet. "You, my friend, look horrible." He looked up to Albert and asked, "How do we fix this fellow up?"

"Don't know. We have one contact, but he's in the Black Ghost. It's not like he can come and fix us on a moment's notice, not without giving us away." Frances knelt beside Jet's cot; she gingerly touched his forehead.

"Amazing. He feels clammy." She was surprised Jet still had normal, physical reactions.

"We do have some flesh, still. We can feel pain, and we aren't totally invincible," Ivan explained. He stood at the foot of the cot and stared down at Jet. "When I projected to you to grab Frances and run, I didn't mean for you to take that kind of risk. It's troublesome to get repairs." Ivan chastised.

Jet raised his left arm, but it flopped down right before he could finish his obscene hand gesture. Frances watched his eyes droop shut. She was happy he seemed to be drifting off. One, she never like to see a person suffer. For two, he couldn't run his mouth asleep.

Albert started to pace a little with a furrowed brow. "We'll have to figure a way for us to get more educated about our physiology. This probably won't be the first time, so we need to have back-up plans."

"Herr Heinrich?" Ivan swirled around and watched the pacing man. Albert's eyebrow quirked in silent inquiry, but he didn't pause pacing. "There is also Doctor Kozumi."

"It's around midnight. That means it's morning in Japan; he'll be teaching. We can't exactly go and bring attention to him. The Black Ghost may be watching him. Also, there is the problem of bringing him all the way here," Albert said.

"You're right about the attention on Kozumi, and getting him here is troublesome. I thought about teleporting him, however, I expended too much capital energy getting Natalie home and altering her memories. She was... unexpectedly difficult." Frances felt dread at Ivan's icy tone. In spite of Natalie's betrayal, she still didn't want to see harm come to her. "I could teleport to Japan with what I have left, but I would then have to rest for a while." Albert paused and gave another, wordless, inquiring look at Ivan. He answered, "It would take me, at the very least, a week's worth of sleep."

"That is... troublesome," Albert agreed.

"Kozumi was approached by the Black Ghost, however he rejected them. He wouldn't be the only one. Either Gilmore or Kozumi may know someone close by who may be sympathetic to us," Ivan pointed out.

"It's worth a shot. We'll have to call him from Basel, carefully. Ivan, come with me, you seemed to pick up some Japanese."

"If Kozumi doesn't know anyone, then I'll read Gilmore's mind. That would be the end of my strength. Let's save that as a last resort."

Frances' attention turned back to Jean-Paul as he loaded their father's pistol. Albert paused before leaving the dormitory. Jean-Paul waved them on and said, "We'll take care of ourselves. Don't worry."

Albert clenched his jaw. He bent over the suitcase and retrieved his ray gun. He nodded towards Jean-Paul, turned, and left. Frances looked over at Jet and was relieved to see him asleep, with normal breathing and heart rate.

* * *

"What if they don't come back?" Frances asked. Jean-Paul sat by the door to the dormitory, his back leaned against the wall, his arms resting on his knees. He looked up at Frances; he looked as exhausted as she felt.

He forced on a chipper smile. "That German guy is very bright. He'll be back."

Frances stood from beside Jet's bed and walked over to one of the narrow, grimy windows. She peeked out to see a bright morning over the Swiss countryside. Small, white flowers dotted the lush, green field. Part of her had the urge to take a walk.

She felt Jean-Paul's hands on her shoulders. "Frances..."

"No, I don't want to talk about it."

"But I do!"

She gasped, looked over to make sure Jet was asleep, then walked away from Jean-Paul. He followed her to the doorway, down the stairs, and out of the hanger bay. She took a deep breath of the crisp, morning air. She would have enjoyed being in the Swiss countryside, if only things were different.

"You need to talk to me, Frances. You can't run from this."

She turned to look at her brother. "That expression on your face, it's the same as you had at Mama and Papa's funeral."

"I don't want to lose my sister, too."

She sighed, shook her head, and walked towards the field. She sat on the ground. Jean-Paul flopped down beside her.

"I'm so confused, sometimes. I don't understand what this is going to mean to me or for the rest of my life. Jean-Paul, I can't age any longer. I knew I couldn't stay in one place for a long time, but I still want a chance to live out my life, the life I had planned. I still want to dance and to have a family one day. I want to spend our holidays together. I'm just so afraid. Mostly, I'm afraid of the Black Ghost catching us and forcing us to work for them. It was a horrible nightmare I couldn't wake up from. What if they never leave us alone?"

Jean-Paul absently plucked grass. "So that's who kidnapped you? The Black Ghost? I don't know what all this will mean for you, yet, but I will make sure you never have to go back to that horrible place again." Jean-Paul's expression grew dark, he whispered, "Let me ask you this, do you believe Natalie is right? That they committed murders?"

Frances had been pushing that thought away from her awareness, but she thought over it carefully, finally shaking her head. "Herr Heinrich is a widower, but it is clear that her death wasn't his fault. I believed he really loved her and whatever happened was a tragedy for both of them. I haven't wanted to intrude on his pain because our relationship is formal, so I haven't asked for details. It still seems so raw for him.

"As far as Jet? I can't tell you much about his life before I met him other than he was in some very deep trouble right before the Black Ghost took him. He won't reveal what it was. Deep down, I do think he has a good heart, even though he isn't exactly a pleasant person." She shook her head with a frown. "I'd be hard pressed to believe he killed anyone."

Jean-Paul nodded. "They both seem like victims of circumstance."

She was silent as she contemplated Jean-Paul's handsome face. It struck her how he was in danger now. Just being around her could kill him. She didn't give voice to her thoughts, because she could predict his denials and his staunch insistence on helping protect her. However, she realized this problem was larger than some schoolyard bullies picking on her. Her older brother couldn't confront the Black Ghost and chase away her problems.

Frances heard a creaking noise coming from the dormitory. She smiled and said, "Jet is up. He shouldn't be moving around so much."

"How do you know?"

"My senses are all enhanced. I can hear and see things at great distances."

Minutes later Jet slowly stumbled out, looking groggy. His right arm hung useless at his side, but he seemed able to function. Jet gingerly sat in front of Frances and took as deep a breath as he could.

"This sucks. When are sauerkraut and the ankle-biter coming back?" He wheezed and let out a stifled cough.

"We don't know. Soon, we hope. They took the beat-up old sedan in front of the strip last night. I hope it held up. They've been gone for almost nine hours," Jean-Paul answered.

"Aww, that cat'll be back; he definitely has nine lives. I ain't worried, because I think he only lost one." Jet fished around the jacket draped over his shoulders and took out a cigarette. He tried lighting it, but ended up gagging horribly. He glowered at it, ground it out, and looked at them after he regained his breath. "That's it. I quit."

"Probably a good thing," Frances said. He rolled his eyes at her. She was about to argue with him over his negative attitude.

"Hey!" Jean-Paul jumped up, tugging Frances with him. "We should do something productive while waiting for them. Help me do a post-flight check."

"But I don't know anything about planes."

"I know. Come on," he said, pulling her with him. She looked over her shoulder to see Jet following, a lop-sided smile on his face.

* * *

Ivan replaced the phone on the cradle and shook his head at Albert. "Kozumi wasn't aware of anyone in the area. It looks like there is only one choice. I must read Gilmore's mind."

"But won't that knock you out?" Albert asked, glancing around the lobby of a small hotel on the edge of Basel.

"I'll be as thrifty as possible."

Albert watched the boy close his eyes. He could see a faint glow under the eyelid. He turned his back and kept a wary lookout. Several minutes later, he felt a tug at his elbow. He looked at Ivan who was dabbing under his nose with a bloodstained handkerchief.

"I was fortunate. I took control of Gilmore and was able to look at the personnel itinerary of some of the Black Ghost contributing scientist. There is a Doctor Otto Dressler lecturing at a nearby university. He's due to leave town tomorrow morning. I wasn't able to find anyone closer."

"Fine, we'll pay a visit to Herr Doktor and persuade him to visit Jet."

"I don't need telepathy to know what's on your mind. We must be very careful." Ivan gave him a shrewd look. "I didn't think you had it in you, the willingness to kidnap."

"I'm still deciding on that," Albert claimed. "That little donkey needs help, and I'm going to get it for him."

* * *

Albert sat at the back of the lecture hall, listening to Doctor Dressler give a speech on increasing crop growth and some of the progress he had made with a formula. Albert found himself baffled by this man. On one hand, he was a Black Ghost researcher. On the other hand, the man seemed sincere about solving the world's hunger issues.

Albert looked down at his gloved hand and flexed his fingers. His first instinct was to try to talk to the man honestly and ask for his help. After all, Gilmore was sympathetic. He unfurled his fingers; the creaking leather was barely audible.

He just couldn't assume this man would be sympathetic, not for Jet's sake. All of their lives could be affected by misplaced trust on Albert's part. He just wouldn't risk their freedom. They were all relying on him. His mind drifted to Hilda saying to him, "I know you'll get me safe and sound to the West. Then we can live together again. Oh, Albert, I have faith in you."

His eyes jerked up when light applause started. He was grateful he didn't have to endure the rest of the memory. He grew single-minded and tamped down his emotions. He stood and waited as Dressler shook hands and chatted with students. He followed the man out the back of the lecture hall. Albert was careful to make sure no one followed him.

Dressler rounded a corner, Albert followed and called out, "Herr Doktor!"

The young doctor turned and raised an eyebrow. "Yes, can I help you?"

Albert slipped his ray gun out of his pocket. "You'll be coming with me tonight."

"What? I recognize that ray gun. You're a Black Ghost agent? Why are you pointing that at me?" The man's voice was barely a whisper.

"Get a move on." Albert jerked his head towards a nearby door. He walked behind the man. He gave him a few directions to the car where Ivan waited.

* * *

"Very good, my friend. You pick up things quick," Jean-Paul gushed with a giant, charming smile.

Frances, who was sitting behind the cockpit of the cargo plane, stifled a giggle at Jet's strange scowl. Jet didn't seem to take compliments very well at all. He seemed suspicious of them, but she didn't know why. Jet started fiddling around with a knob on the control panel, a distinct air of aggravation surrounded him. He was being way too quiet for his normal self.

"Who knows when flying an actual plane can come in handy?" Jet finally mumbled tensely.

Jean-Paul wasn't put off at Jet's slightly hostile vibe. He flashed Jet a huge smile and smacked him on the left shoulder. "Good job! You know, you're a natural at flying. You should get some serious training and become a pilot when you get back home."

Frances wondered if it was her imagination, but were Jet's cheeks flushed? Was he sweating? Why was he giving her friendly brother even deeper scowls? Jean-Paul was as clueless as always, when someone was being standoffish. He pressed on with his genial nature as he gave further instructions. Jet took them in, but seemed so incredibly stiff.

"Someone is coming. I hear a car," Frances said, shaking Jean-Paul's shoulder. The blond man leaped out of the cockpit and drew his pistol.

"You two stay here. Jet, take off with Frances if it looks like trouble. You know enough to do that much. There should be enough fuel to get you over those hills. You can run for it there."

Jet nodded and grabbed Frances' wrist when she tried to follow her brother. She crouched behind Jet and concentrated. The car parked. She could hear Albert say, "Here we are. Don't give me any trouble, Herr Doktor."

"It's them, Jet! Come on." She helped Jet out of the cockpit. He slumped against her awkwardly, especially since he was almost a foot taller than her.

To be continued.


	10. Chapter 10

Young Offenders, Redux- Part 10

"This..." Albert shoved a middle aged man in through the dormitory door. "... is Doctor Otto Dressler, a Black Ghost researcher. He happened to be giving a lecture at the University of Basel. I persuaded him to take a detour before going back home."

Frances stood up from where she sat beside Jet on a cot. "But, Herr Heinrich, he didn't want to be here?"

"He wasn't thrilled to come with me. That's why he looks so put out, but we don't have much choice. I figured I needed to take the risk of bringing him here to help Jet recover, anyway." Albert held up his ray gun to the sweaty doctor's head. The man's glower deepened. Frances caught a slight smile Jet gave towards Albert. The older man didn't notice, too busy with holding the doctor hostage. The German man lowered his gun and said, "Welcome to our temporary home. Once you finish the job, we'll let you go."

"How dare you! The Black Ghost is trying to improve humanity and save people from their own stupidity!"

"There is your patient, Herr Doktor. Fix him and I won't have to rattle your teeth," Albert threatened, to Frances' utter shock. She didn't think the cool, logical man had it in him. This was something new in her German compatriot she hadn't seen. She wondered what had triggered it. The middle-aged scientist walked over to Jet and looked at his eyes and checked his pulse.

"What's wrong with him?" Dressler snapped.

"He was shot in the back. He should have been able to withstand it, but it nicked a line," Albert answered.

Frances averted her eyes as Jet took off his shirt with help from Jean-Paul. Dressler shouted, "What is this?! Some sort of sick joke! I'm a biologist! Not an electrician! How did he get that way? Who tampered with healthy flesh?"

"You should know; your friends at the Black Ghost did that to him. Now, get to work, I'm getting impatient," Albert growled.

"I'll do what I can," the man mumbled, now looking pale and numb. France joined Albert by a window while the man worked on Jet.

"What if the Black Ghost comes looking for Dressler?"

"He's not due anywhere until tomorrow morning. Ivan will handle Herr Doktor then," Albert said softly. Frances nodded, exhaustion was beginning to overcome her.

* * *

"Done," Dressler declared.

Frances jerked awake at the pronouncement and realized, with dismay, that she had fallen asleep on a cot. She sat up and walked over to where Jet was stretching and waving around his right arm.

"Best part is both my lungs work. Thanks, Doc."

"Don't thank me," the man snapped. "I don't understand how the Black Ghost did this or why. It serves no advancement to cut open a healthy body. I was able to repair those artificial muscles with such ease. They were amazing, so advanced."

"It doesn't matter," Albert said. "You need to go back and forget this happened."

Frances moved aside as Ivan approached. He held up his right hand, right eye glowing. "You will go back to your apartment and forget everything over the last five hours. You'll get a good night's sleep and then go on with your travel plans tomorrow."

The man looked dazed, but nodded and walked out of the dormitory. Dressler ambled out towards the beat-up sedan, started it, and drove off. Ivan groaned and tilted towards Frances. She and Albert caught him. His nose bled profusely. She and Albert managed to get him onto a cot; Jean-Paul and Jet joined them, standing around Ivan's inert body.

"We'll need to leave tomorrow. Let's all get some rest," Albert said. He sat on the cot next to Ivan, tending his bloody nose. Jet went and flopped on his cot again, only he looked the happiest Frances had ever seen him. Jean-Paul fell into a cot one down from Jet and fell asleep almost instantly. She walked to the end of the dormitory and lay on a cot apart from them, but she was too restless to get a solid night's sleep.

* * *

"Frances, I need to talk to you a few minutes." She looked over to Albert, who stood in the shadow of the hanger bay. She glanced over again at the cargo plane across the field. Jean-Paul was giving Jet another lesson. She could clearly hear Jean-Paul laughing at Jet's fowl-mouthed tirade on the math behind fuel consumption. Jean-Paul only gently teased about Jet being lazy, but Frances was amazed the New Yorker didn't explode in anger at her brother. He would just grumbled and redouble his efforts. It baffled her why Jet could have that kind of patients with anyone else.

"What is it?" she asked, taking her attention off Jet and Jean-Paul.

"It's about your brother; I think you know what I'm going to say." Albert's dour tone cued her in.

Frances nodded and joined Albert at a small table covered in the hanger bay. It was covered in small bolts and wrinkled maps. "You're going to point out that he's a liability. That if he goes with us, he could be killed."

"Or even worse. Keep in mind what they did to us. I'm sure these twisted men have other evil ideas they want to implement. I'd rather not see a nice guy like Jean-Paul, or anyone else, become a victim of the Black Ghost. It's obvious to me, now, that we must be very careful who we allow to travel with us, for their sake."

Frances could feel her throat tighten. She took a deep breath and looked at her hands. She could see Albert's gloved hand immediately drift towards her left arm, but he paused before touching her, and it was him that flinched back from her this time.

"Look," he said, firmly and flatly, "I don't want us to have to keep on the move all the time. After what just happened in Paris, I think we need to find a quiet place to settle down for a while. After a year or two, when I know it's safe, we can send for Jean-Paul. It won't be forever. Ivan says that the Merchants of Death keep slashing the funding, which is not good for us."

"What do you mean? They won't have the money to chase us around. That's good, right?"

"It means they'll want us back. They won't spend another nickel until we're under their thumb again is what it means" Albert said bluntly. "Ivan is right. They spent too much money to leave us alone. They'll keep hounding us."

Frances inhaled deeply and nodded. "I know you're right, even thought I wish it weren't so. Does this mean you think we need to all stay together?"

Albert nodded, with a clenched jaw. Her eyes widened. "Have you told Jet?"

"Not yet. I think he still has his obstinate heart set on New York, but I think I can persuade him to stay with us."

"How so? He's too obstinate," Frances agreed.

"After almost getting killed the other night, I think he'll be more reasonable." Albert gave her a shallow smile. "A near death experience will change you. But I admit, with Jet, I don't hold much hope."

"Hey you two!" Jean-Paul called out, Jet trailed behind as they walked into the hanger bay. "Lunch time. We found rations! Not tasty, but our bellies won't be empty."

"Let's sit down and talk," Albert said when they were all gathered around a table. "We need to make somethings clear before we leave," Albert started off, fixing Frances with an intense gaze. She wilted, but said nothing as Albert had a firm heart-to-heart with Jean-Paul and Jet.

* * *

The flight to Stresa, Italy took barely half an hour. Jean-Paul let Jet do most of the work, occasionally correcting him. After their bumpy landing, Frances looked over to where Ivan was wrapped in blankets beside her, his head on her lap. He was totally unconscious, with very few signs of life. Albert sat next to her, deep in his own thoughts.

After they landed, Jean-Paul and Jet joined them in the hull of cargo plane. "You two must promise me to look after Frances. I don't like this, but you make a lot of sense, Herr Heinrich."

"I'm glad you understand," Albert said to Jean-Paul.

Albert and Jean-Paul had argued over his coming with them. That conversation over Frances' well-being was intense. Jean-Paul loved his little sister a great deal, but had came around to common sense and agreed to let her travel with them for now. He admitted they could protect her better than him.

Eventually, in the conversation they had had, Jean-Paul also admitted he was a liability if he did travel with them. He agreed to stay in France, if they kept in contact and Frances would visit him by next Christmas.

"I do understand, but I don't like it. I'll fly this plane back, and then Frances will send me a postcard to Aunt Marie's Calais cottage. Address it to Renee Fonck. I'll assume that new identity." She nodded, unable to speak without crying.

Albert stood up and picked Ivan up with a struggle. "I'll wait for you two to say good bye."

He left, and Frances' sorrow grew heavier. Jean-Paul wouldn't quite look at her. He cleared his throat and thrust his hand out towards Jet first. "You need to keep practicing, somehow. Good luck with it, Jet. I really hope you do take up flying. Nothing would please me more. You know, you're a better person than you think. Just believe in yourself more, and you'll go far. I believe in you!"

The New Yorker stared at Jean-Paul's offered hand. Jet, rather than shaking it, hopped up, and scrambled out of the plane without a word. He grabbed the suitcase on the way out and dragged it after him. Frances glanced at her brother, who gave a baffled, but unoffended, amused shrug.

He then leaned over and gave her a fierce hug. "Stay safe. I'll see you by next Christmas. Okay?"

She hugged him back and said, "I love you."

"I love you too, little sister."

He helped her stand up and get out of the plane. A thought hit her suddenly right before he ducked back into the plane. "Wait! Jean-Paul! Your watch!"

She ran up towards the plane, retrieved the gold pocket watch from her sweater, and held it up towards him. He smiled warmly and clasped her hand with the watch. He curled her fingers around the watch and shook his head. "You keep it and give it back to me next year."

She nodded; a surge of joy hit her. "So long as I have to give this back to you, I'll always make sure I return it."

He gave her the warmest smile. "I count on it." He ducked into the plane and closed the door. After Jean-Paul took off, Frances followed Albert, carrying Ivan, and Jet, carrying that awful suitcase, down a small dirt road. They remained quiet all the way to the small city.

* * *

Countess Manma Yana bowed, "Yes, Lord Scar. I've carried out your orders. My team is ready."

"Good!" The man beckoned her to follow him down the hallway. She followed, gently playing with the charm bracelet on her wrist. Six charms, one for each type of chessman, dangled from the silver loops.

"I hear my husband won't be back for a while."

"Yes, General Issimo has reassigned him to research and development because of the reduction in funds, however, the sooner you find the missing Double Zero Cyborgs, the sooner you will be reunited with your husband." Scar turned to her, his black cape lapping her ankles. "If your men fail, he won't be back."

Being Japanese, Yana pushed her moss green-locks back from her forehead and gave a small bow. "I understand the risk, Lord Scar. I will not fail you. The men I've chosen for this task are all capable. The twins are unpredictable, but very aggressive and not afraid of violence. That family man, I chose him as well."

"Ember?"

"Yes, he wants a good place to raise his daughter and to make sure his wife is well taken care of. He's a simpleton, but one of the best snipers on the payroll. I also..."

"I know, that mute oaf! I don't see why you chose him. He's the real simpleton."

She let out a sinister chuckle and nodded. "He is strong and fast for someone of his bulk, but, more importantly, he is loyal to Ember, and he hasn't resisted any order I've ever given him. Show a beaten dog a little kindness, and it won't bite."

"I can see I was wise in choosing you for this mission. You have no heart, unlike other women."

"I gave it away a long time ago," she agreed somberly. "Now, with your leave, the five of us will start tracking the errant Double Zero Cyborgs."

"They must be under my control within two months. If not, our plans my be pushed back further. We need to continue the Double Zero project soon."

"It will be done." She turned down a darkened hallway, parting from Scar. A group of scientists passed her. They, Gilmore, Uranus, and Gaia, were in a heated discussion. For a slight moment, Gilmore caught her eye, his eyes grew blank. He shook his head, as if disoriented, and continued on with his two colleges.

Yana arrived at the hanger bay where her team was assembled. The spiky-haired twins were playing cards. Why they bothered, she never knew. They could read each other's thoughts plainly. They knew what was in each other's mind. What was the point?

Meanwhile, Ember, the sharp shooter, was watching the redheaded oaf swing a five-year-old girl around by the hands. Ember let out a whistle and took the small girl in his arms after she'd had her "fun ride."

Yana walked up to the men who now gave her their attention. The small child buried her face against her father's neck and asked, "Are you going now?"

"Yes, sweetheart." He lowered the childed and patted her head. "Go find your mother. She should be in our apartment now."

The little girl, Anna, nodded and ran out of the hanger bay. The man was lucky enough to have a child! Why risk the child's life? Yana controlled her sneer and said, "The Cyborgs have a large lead on us, but we should be able to catch them. We start in Paris and track them. That was their last appearance."

"How long do we have?"

"Two months."

Ember nodded grimly. "Let's hurry."

"Finally, some action," Pollux said.

His twin, Castor, snickered. "I was getting bored, too. This promises to be full of action."

"Go to my personal plane," Yana ordered. Ember and the twins ambled towards her large, silver jet. She turned to see the giant teenager stare at her. "You, too." He nodded and followed her to the plane.

To Be Continued.


End file.
